Discontinued Stories
by Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors
Summary: These are all of my discontinued stories combined into one, each with their own chapter, for those who wanted to keep reading them after they were deleted :)
1. White King

Title: **White King**

Category: Games » Slender

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Horror

Published: 06-19-13, Updated: 06-19-13

Chapters: 2, Words: 1,370

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Okay, I know-the idea of "Slenderotica" is somewhat terrifying, but don't run screaming just yet! I think I actually have something here, and I would love it if you guys gave it a shot :D I hope you like it. Listen to:**

**Sarcasm - Get Scared**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Prologue**_

I have often heard the term "Slenderman."

In my opinion, I have heard it too many times. Is that the best you people could come up with? _Slenderman?_

Oh, but it makes my blood boil.

He is no mere _man. _He is a king. My king. And the king of his own world, secluded from the rest of us by the tall, shadowy strength of the pine trees that surround him.

Why would you reduce him to such a name? Does he not deserve more credit than that?

He is the silent, white king of his woods, and I would sooner die than hear that dreaded name again.

If only you knew the years and years of torture and torment he's endured-the loneliness. The pain. The _hunger._

My god, the hunger...

When I found him, he was so starved...so desperate for some form of sustenance...that I was more than tempted to offer myself up whole.

And I suppose, in some ways, I did.

Because he consumed my heart...and he consumed my soul.

These are the memoirs of my ties to the white king.

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE :D**

**Chapter 2: All the Hype**

**Wow, I am just astonished at the amount of followers and favorites I received for just the prologue! Thank you so much guys, especially those who reviewed. I hope the first chapter doesn't disappoint. :D Listen to:**

**Slow Chemical - Finger Eleven**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**All the Hype**_

"This is it," he said proudly, spreading his arms wide and turning around to face us.

I squinted at the surrounding mass of trees. There were two dirt paths spread out before us in a fork, between them, the beginnings of a vast forest. And as a studied it, a sudden flash passed before my eyes...

A memory.

"I've seen this place before," I said, gazing curiously at one of the tall, slender trees.

"Oh?" Matt raised a brow at me. "I'm not surprised. Maybe when you were younger."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, and yet there was a somewhat devious smirk on his face. "Just, you know...the legends. Children are supposed to be his _favorite_ snack."

I rolled my eyes.

Ethan stepped within my sight, hands shoved in his back pockets, head tilted to the ever darkening sky. "Got the time?"

Matt glanced at his watch. "Eight forty-five."

"I'm still confused as to the plan here, guys," Cecilia called from a little ways back. She'd broken the heal of one of her stilettos on the hike down from Ethan's pick-up.

Matt grinned back at her, "No plan. Not really. I just want to look around a little bit. See what all the hype's about."

"I bet you it's some complex prank some old people have been pulling off for years. You know...like in that movie the Village?" Ethan patted one of the tree trunks.

Yeah. We were all talk, and yet no one mentioned that not a single one of us had breached the line where the woods began. Deep down, regardless of our egos, that same fear that had seized the hearts of so many others was seizing us as well.

"What if we get lost?" Cecilia had removed both shoes, massaging the soles of her feet. "It's not like I can walk very far anyway."

"Take mine," I said, kicking off my tennis shoes.

"Nope. It's not that big a deal, El. Put them back on." She waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm serious. It's fine. I've got feet like a native. Don't want to ruin your baby skin do you?" I teased. She pursed her lips, then stuck her tongue out at me as she bent to grab them and tug them on.

Matt and Ethan were discussing the strange orientation of the trees...how they seemed to have grown around the roads, as there were no signs of cutting. I'd noticed that too.

And as we killed time, silently too afraid to do what we'd come to do, the sky faded into an inky blackness. Matt cracked out the flashlights and glow sticks, which, unfortunately, did almost nothing to light the way.

It was like the air had swallowed us.

"Ready?" I finally asked. Ethan shone his light on my bare feet.

"That's a bad idea."

I shrugged. "I can take it. So...are we splitting up, or sticking together?"

Their answers overlapped, Matt and Cecilia asking to split up, and Ethan-having noticed the look in my eyes-asking for the latter.

"A compromise, then?" Matt offered. "Pairs?"

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"Nothing," Matt said, just as Ethan whispered the word, "Notes."

"What?"

He coughed, "Nothing. I was just kidding. I'll go with Elena. You two head right, we'll go left."

As we broke apart, heading into the darkness, I heard Cecilia say, "Nothing isn't an answer."

Ethan handed me two green and blue glow sticks, keeping the flashlight between his teeth as he walked. Having both hands in his pockets seemed to comfort him.

We stayed on the path for a while, never straying too close to the trees, and I silently wondered whether Matt had taken Cecilia in yet.

"How are your feet?" Ethan asked around the light, voice muffled.

I laughed uneasily. "Fine."

"Why so nervous?"

I shook my head at myself, almost as if I were trying to wake myself up. "I'm not nervous at all. I'm fine. Tired, you know."

He didn't press me for the truth.

But the truth was that I _had_ been here before, and Matt was right-I'd been little. No older than four or five. My parents had taken a detour on the way to a camping trip and we'd ended up lost here.

I'd never liked the aura these woods gave off.

Like we were _trespassing._

Absently, I spun the silver ring on my index finger, seeking comfort from my mother's gift to me. I'd gotten it for my sixteenth birthday, and engraved on the inside were the words to Lord Byron's "She Walks In Beauty."

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes._

It was a piece my mother used to read to me to get me to fall asleep, and she told me it had been the only one that worked.

Even now, feeling the words against my skin brought upon me a tingle of safety, and I relished in it, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Hey, check it out!" Ethan broke my reverie. I blinked.

Ahead of us, in the middle of the path, was a bizarre, dead tree. It was shaped like a briar of some sort, with sharp branches and twisting twigs. I'd never seen anything like it.

Anything so deformed.

I swallowed thickly.

"Pretty creepy, huh?" Ethan approached it a little too gleefully, and I held back, clutching my glow sticks more tightly.

"Yeah."

"Woah..." he breathed, resting a hand on one of the branches. "You've got to feel this thing."

"No thanks," I said shortly.

"It's all..._waxy._ Like a candle. Come El, don't be a wuss. It's just a tree."

"That is _not _a tree," I scoffed, edging my way around it to continue along the path.

"Oh, then what is it, huh?" He sped up to catch me, matching my stride once more.

"Modern art."

But his resulting laughter was drowned out by a distant, piercing cry.

And I knew Cecilia's scream anywhere.

It hadn't even been ten minutes yet.


	2. Smokahontas

Title: **Smokahontas**

Category: Movies » Pocahontas

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Published: 03-29-13, Updated: 05-19-13

Chapters: 3, Words: 2,881

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**I've been thinking about writing this one for a while-ever since I realized that this site is literally bereft of any decent, R-rated Thomas fics. And yes, before you ask, it was inspired by the song by Attack Attack. If there are any children reading this, I recommend you go elsewhere, sweethearts. It's not for the innocent-minded. I hope you all enjoy it. Listen to:**

**Hands in the Sky (Big Shot) - Straylight Run**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Prologue**_

They call me Smoke.

It's not the name I was given at birth. No, not by a long shot...but it's the only name I want. I still can't decide whether or not it's meant to be an insult. I guess I don't care. I like it. Maybe it's because of my appearance-my strange, gray eyes; the dark, infamous stare...or maybe it's because I've started one too many forest fires. I guess it doesn't matter. It's just a name. Want to hear another name?

Thomas.

Only problem is, that's not just another name. I can say it all I want and pretend it doesn't mean anything to me...but that's just it.

I'd be pretending.

The name the tribe gave me was Talutah, or "blood-red," because that was how they found me. Young, alone, and covered in my own blood. And I never want to remember that day...so I go along with the nickname.

My story is long and tiresome to tell. Let me be brief with you...for the story I want to tell is not about me, but about Thomas.

There were likely three stages to my life. The brief period in which I was a settler's daughter...wearing white linens and riding in covered wagons and nestling against my white mother's bosom. Then the period after I'd been abducted, and my true parents killed. I was probably only three or four at the time.

Powhatan, the chief of my current tribe, had told me I'd been taken by Mohawks-the most violent and heartless tribe known to them. They'd branded me with their symbol: two crossed hatchets. The burn remains on my back to this day.

The final period is now, many years after the Mohawks had attempted to sacrifice me to their gods, slicing me open and painting me with my own blood. The Algonquian warriors had intervened...and taken me back with them.

I have remained ever since-an addition to their quiet, honor-bound ranks.

And there is only one of them whom I will _never_ regard as an ally. And I'm sure you know her better than me.

Her name is Pocahontas.

**Seem worth reading? I hope so :) Love to all!**

**Chapter 2: They Invade**

**Sorry to make you guys wait so long. I've been a bit preoccupied with my other works. If you'd like to see what my idea of Thomas looks like...seeing as a cartoon is a bit difficult to-erm...**_**sexualize, **_**the link is on my profile ;) Listen to:**

**Caves - Chiodos (This song is absolutely fantastic!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**They Invade**_

"I trust you, stepdaughter. Go. Seek the truth."

Bowing my head in respect, I turned from Chief Powhatan and sprinted away, hopping lightly from rock to rock and climbing from the valley that protected our camp. Even from here, I could see the enormous, white sails.

We'd spotted the ship this morning, and for a long while, we'd waited in silent trepidation to discover whether or not it was followed by a fleet. When hours passed and it remained lonely on the shore, the Chief had appointed me to scout out the area.

I was the logical choice. Most swift on foot, a perfect warrior, and I was a woman. If they caught me, my punishment would likely be less severe. But Powhatan's choice had his true daughter raving mad.

I only sneered as I passed her.

I could see the fear in her eyes...the blatant fear that her father would choose me in her stead to marry Kocoam, our future Chief. It was eating away at her-and I relished in that.

Strapping my bow over my shoulder, I paused at the edge of the cliff face, then worked up to a run and launched myself off of it, plummeting into the water below with a clean dive.

It was cool and fresh against my skin, but I couldn't afford to wade comfortably without risking the detection of the enemy. No, I had to move swiftly and silently under the surface, pausing every now and again as I drew nearer to their shore.

_Our__ shore,_ I reminded myself. They were invaders.

With every surface I made to breathe, I could hear them talking-speaking a language I knew, thank the Mother. English. A strange tongue...

"Richard! Grab the lines!"

"Do these have to be so damned heavy?"

"John!"

"_John..."_

"John?"

I heard that name a lot. He must've been their leader. Their Chief.

The water grew warm as it became shallow, and I adjusted my course to avoid washing up on the beach right in front of the newcomers.

Instead, I came ashore shrouded in dark green cattails, crawling on all fours and squeezing out my dripping hair so as not to leave a trail. Some of them trudged right past me, oblivious to their surroundings in a way that disgusted me.

Terrible hunters, they must've been.

Understanding would be all at once simple and incredibly difficult for me. Simple, because they themselves seemed simple-minded, but difficult because I would have to think like them-which I was almost entirely certain was impossible.

"_They move like blundering fools-careless and heavy,"_ I later told the tribe.

The objects they were bringing ashore were unknown to me. For-legged planks and scrolls of thin material. Overlarge canoes and strange, shiny pipes with holes in the middle.

"_I suspect they are weapons..."_

At one point, a very fat, abnormally dressed man-(well, only slightly more abnormal than the rest of them)-stepped onto the boat ramp, a ridiculous, yipping little animal under his arm with a squished-in face.

My lip curled, a very quiet growl of anger streaming out of my throat at the way he was looking at the land. Like he owned it...or soon would.

And I'd be damned if I let that happen.

"_Though fat, I still believe him to be a threat. I can see the greed in his eyes."_

Slinking my way around their new "camp," I scanned the lot, surprised to find that not a single woman had been aboard the vessel. Only a loud, arrogant group of men.

They pitched strange looking teepees, which seemed to be upturned on their sides so that one had to crawl into them-a stupid design, if I had any say in it-while some other simply rolled out mats to sleep in open air.

The night drew nearer, clouds banking on the horizon to envelop the sun and leave a certain gloom over the invaded beach.

I felt sorry for the land, watching in disgust as the crewman relieved themselves carelessly upon the sand and into the water. The stench of their urine made my nose wrinkle as I slowly began to dread the idea of swimming back to the tribe.

That was when I saw him...

As the breeze picked up, sweeping away the foulness, and he moved into my line of sight.

He pulled his shirt up over his head, wringing out the sopping wet mass and then ruffling long, bruised fingers through blood-red hair. It tousled itself in a beautifully natural fashion upon his head, dripping water onto the sand so close to me I felt the droplets prickle against my skin.

I'd never seen hair that color before...

But it reminded me of the blood that had been all over my body...on that day. A shiver rocked up my spine.

I forced my eyes to move to his bare chest, blanketed lightly in a faint smattering of rough, auburn curls. The muscles beneath his skin rippled as he moved, strong biceps tightening and flaunting long, wiry veins. A fisherman's body would not've been my first guess.

Rather, a warrior's.

I studied the strong slope of his shoulders, so broad they blocked my view of almost everything else on the beach, and then finally let my gaze rest upon his face.

He looked weary. That was the first thing I noticed. There were bruises beneath his eyes -a startling, sage green-and his lips were bloodied and chapped. But what shocked me the most was that none of this diminished from his overall appeal.

He had a face like those that I imagined belonging to one of the Warrior Spirits we chanted about during rituals. Darkly beautiful...like a tempter.

It frightened me, to say the least.

But just as I was about to back out of the reeds-to return to my anxiously waiting Chief-he turned those few centimeters that were all he needed to discover me.

He froze, muscles coiling and hand itching at his side, as if for a weapon that was not there.

I found myself in a similar position-unable to move...not even an inch. My eyes were wide as globes, staring up at him in both horror and awe. His gaze skirted over me, making me feel curiously like prey to a dangerous predator.

And that was so wrong.

I was_ always_ the predator.

But when he took the slightest of steps forward, my body's abnormal lock released and I shot back on my haunches in a murderous crouch, hissing at him.

The shock had barely registered on his spirit's face before I was disappearing into the thick woods behind the camp, praying to all our Protectors that I would never have to see him again.

But the Protectors never listened to me.

**Chapter 3: They Affect**

**I apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I've been incredibly busy as of late :) Hope you enjoy it. Listen to:**

**The Ugly - Exies (LOVE THIS SONG!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**They Affect**_

"Come, child..." the Chief spoke gently. "Sit. Eat with us. You fear too much of the future."

"Do you _not _fear their weapons?" I shot back. I was furious at the tribe's blatant disregard for the invaders. They acted as if it were a mere storm crossing over, and that it would pass without harm. "Their _numbers?"_

"I cannot afford to fear them," he said, voice calm as ever. "They have yet to pose a direct threat to us. Starting a war disrespects the Protectors."

"Even when it is justified?!" I demanded.

The Chief shook his head, measuring my rage with his eyes, "Child, you are not used to such trials. It is natural to be...upset."

I hissed through my teeth.

"Do you wish to disrespect _me?" _His voice rose a notch, and I shrank back, lowering my eyes submissively.

"No, Great One. Never. I shall honor your word."

"Good," he bid, an ancient smile gracing his withered face. "Now share our feast. It is a warm night."

I swallowed back my anger, or rather, my disappointment, and came to sit beside Achak around the bonfire. He was the youngest warrior of our tribe, and a very dear companion of mine. There was something I admired in his playfulness-a tactic he used to offset the rather ethereal meaning of his name: Spirit.

Currently, he had his long braids swept over to one side, smearing the warpaint by his lips as he masticated a buffalo thigh. It was an amusing sight, watching him eat-like he was fighting a war against his dinner.

He glanced at me wryly, grinning at my expression. "So tell me...these invaders...are they big and ugly?"

I laughed, "Most of them, yes. Many are fat and strangely dressed. They do not look like they have ever enjoyed the hunt."

"Pah!" he spat in disgust, ripping at another piece of meat with his front teeth. "Swine slop!"

"Indeed." I accepted Hassun's offering of wild pears with a smile, nodding before turning back to Achak. "Their ships, though...those are quite impressive."

He pursed his lips. "I have seen them. How impressive can they be, when they can move only so fast compared to ours?" He shook my comment away dismissively, "No, their crafts are clumsy oxen on a pasture, facing a herd of wild stallions."

"These wild stallions being us, of course?"

"Of course." With another grin, he rose his wooden cup of water to thunk it against mine, and then downed it in one sip.

The meal continued much as it did most nights, with our tribal chant of thanks to the Protectors and to the spirits of the animals that provided our food. Our Chief stood and gave the night call to the woods, waking the forest, as we called it, to watch over us while we slept.

And then we were dismissed to our teepees, expected to rest for the hunt the following morning.

But I never went to sleep with the rest of them.

I was alive with these woods, especially when no one else was. It was almost as if I could feel the tree spirits and the water spirits and the star spirits envelop me as I ran, disappearing into the ferns for another evening of exploration.

I was certain Chief Powhatan had noticed by now, but he never spoke of it-almost as if he encouraged it. He saw me as a free spirit, and nothing ever permitted a man to crush a free spirit.

It was considered one of the highest forms of dishonor.

However, I don't think he would ever have approved of my explorations this night.

To this day, I like to pretend that it was a wrong turn that brought me back to the invaders' camp, but I know deep inside it was only my curiosity getting the better of me.

I had to know about them.

Had to know what they were doing on our land.

Our home.

I only hoped that the spirit-faced stranger would stay far away, so I would never have to look upon him again.

Such beauty is dangerous, they say.

Such beauty will entrap you.

And I'd been entranced when I'd first glimpsed him. That, if anything, was the truth.

Nevertheless, I somehow found myself crawling through the same reeds I'd hidden in that very morning, eager to get another glimpse, despite all my instincts.

Of him. Of any of them. Just to investigate more of their strange race.

The first thing I noticed was the bonfire, much like ours as it was situated in the center of all of them, but so very different in the manner it was being used.

Whereas we danced with our fire, and drew colorful lines in the sky with burning sticks, they only used the beautiful flames to cook their meal and then to spit upon-sickening, dark globs of saliva, tainted by something I did not know of.

The hundred or so greasy men drank from odd, metal goblets, seeming to grow more and more wild by the second, as if the drink affected them in some way. Brandy, they called it. Brandy and whiskey.

I hated its stench already.

Against my own wishes, my eyes searched fruitlessly for the man with the blood in his hair. The handsome warrior among the brutes.

But he was not among them.

Not yet.

It seemed the Protectors were very much against me, because as I grew uninterested, listening to the senseless drawl of the invaders around the fire, speaking in that strange English-which still surprised me-he emerged from the ocean, soaking wet and without a shirt, involuntarily flexing his muscles in the firelight.

He'd been bathing.

_Why must he always be wet? _My conscience moaned. I could not stand the sight of it.

"Come on, Thomas! You'll go soft if you spend anymore time in the water," one of the men slurred, obviously affected by his drink. The other men cheered on his words as the warrior came to sit among them, shaking his head with a dangerous grin I could not afford to take more than a quick glance at.

A tempter's grin.

"Best stop drinking, Lads..."

I struggled to withhold my gasp.

The spirit warrior spoke, and the sound was too much for my ears-far too like music-like fire's warmth and the water's smoothness.

Far too deep with the rumble it caused in my chest.

The other men roared their disagreement, swaying back and forth precariously.

"Shut up, Thomas!" some cried, and again I was assaulted with his gentle name.

Thomas.

_Thomas...Thomas..._

My heart began to beat too wildly-and I felt as if I was dying.

_I cannot look upon you._

_Not for another second._

_Thomas._

**Vote for my next story at the top of my profile page! :)**


	3. Frosted

Title: **Frosted**

Category: Movies » Rise of the Guardians

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Published: 11-25-12, Updated: 09-02-13

Chapters: 28, Words: 35,996

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**So, here's my new idea! I find Jack Frost in Rise of the Guardians super attractive, so I felt I had to do something about it. Be warned, this story is not for kids. It's mature and far darker than the movie. If you've not seen the movie, but are a fan of my other works, give it a try. You might like it... Listen to (yes, I'm starting this again):**

**Reclusion - Anberlin**

**Hope you enjoy :)**

_**Prologue**_

For me, take your kid to work day was always a bit of a problem. Don't get me wrong-I understand why my father didn't want to take me, but...I don't know. Would one time really have hurt that much?

The answer was and is yes.

It did-and I blame myself. I begged him until his ears fell off. In the end, it was most likely out of annoyance and pity, rather than an actual interest in me.

My father's Pitch, by the way.

Pitch Black.

A ridiculous name, I know-but I suppose, for a man who raises a child on a steady diet of nightmares and apprehension, it's rather fitting.

He did take me to work with him. Only once, mind you-but once was enough.

I saw the nightmares he gave to little kids-saw the fear register on their faces. I know I should've been afraid, myself-should've been disappointed or disgusted by my father...

But for some ludicrous reason, I found it all fascinating.

I guess it was a good thing he wasn't the best kind of father. It made it that much easier for him to teach me the art of fear.

I was the bastard child of a Reaper-a bringer of death. So you can imagine what a dangerous mix fear and death turned out to be.

It made me one of a kind.

It made me a demon.

Hell, at least I looked normal-well, sort of.

I could've passed as a heavily devoted gothic. The black hair-the yellow eyes. People usually steered clear of me.

Oh, yeah-I'm visible. I don't really count as a Guardian or an antihero. I'm kind of an in-between that no one wants to talk about...and after my father died, everyone seemed to forget about me.

My mother forced me into a human school-a small high school in the microscopic town of Black River, Michigan. At first, I didn't mind. I felt more powerful than all the other kids.

If they pissed me off, I could give them night terrors for a week.

But then I started to lose interest, and before I knew it, I was an outcast.

I sat in the back of classrooms, and all my teachers wondered why the small potted plants around me died each week.

I let my hair fall in my eyes, noticing that the sinister look helped to ward people off, and slowly but surely became an untouchable.

It was perfect.

Why does everything that's ever perfect for me die?

Oh, right...bringer of death...

**Chapter 2: Frozen Remembrance**

**Alright, here we go. I hope you guys like this story, despite the weirdness :) Listen to:**

**It Only Hurts - Default**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**Frozen Remembrance**_

The stupid green thing was taunting me, I was sure. What, with its happy living leaves and that ridiculous flower growing out the top.

As Mrs. Davidson droned on about the Civil War, I glared at it.

And then I realized that I was staring down a plant.

So, with a quick glance to find the rest of the class either asleep or drooling as they watched their teacher, I turned and blew a quick breath.

Instantly, the green disease turned black and wilted, the dead leaves falling off, forming a black carpet around the pot on the desk.

I smiled to myself.

"Collis!" Mrs. Davidson barked quite abruptly, and I started, turning to look at her. "I _know _you remember the day the Civil War ended. Would you mind enlightening the rest of us?"

With an angry sigh, I slouched further back into my chair and offered casually, "It depends on what you think was _really _the end of it. The surrender-or the last guts to hit the ground..."

There were a few groans from the other students, and Mrs. Davidson grimaced.

I shrugged, "Just calling it like it is..."

"Yes, quite-thank you for that Collis. Let's just say, for time's sake, we're talking about the surrender."

"April 9th, 1865," I grinned at her slightly surprised expression. "It was a Sunday."

After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat and returned to teaching without so much as a word to me.

I didn't care.

I liked it that way.

It was a hot and dreary day outside, and briefly, as I stared out the window, I wondered where that bastard Frost was when you needed him.

I _hated _the heat.

Things that died in heat tended to stink, so you could imagine my distress.

And hell, if I couldn't kill anything, I might as well've died of boredom.

Lucky enough for me, things started to get more interesting on my walk to the forest that night. For the first time in half a year, a Guardian found me...

I was headed to the hollow I called home. My mother didn't want anything to do with me most days, so I resolved to live alone. But sleeping in the heat did start to get miserable after a while.

The moment I turned to skip a rock across the small pond on my right, I heard a loud thud and whirled around.

There in front of me, arms crossed, tapping one of his overlarge feet, was the goddamned Easter Bunny.

"Oh, well good evening, Sir Egghead," I swept into a bow before him. "Lose one of your eggs, did you?"

"You're bitter as ever, I see," he remarked in that heavy Australian accent.

I scoffed, turning away, "What do you expect? Flowers and rainbows? For one, I don't do rainbows, Mate," I mocked his accent. "And furthermore, my father _died, _Moron. Think twice before you believe I'll be happy about it."

"You jumped off the radar, Deathhead. That's illegal."

"Ooh...illegal! Hate to break it to you, but I was never a part of your little clan of do-gooders. I don't want to be, either. Leave me be, or I swear I'll rot your eggs this Easter."

I could sense him glaring at the back of my head.

"I'm curious, though..." I continued. "How'd you find me?"

"Jack did."

I stiffened, "I hardly think that's true. If it wasn't obvious, Jack's not been here for months."

"Mate doesn't have to frost things to move-unlike you."

My hands clenched into fists. I knew what he was referring to.

Every step I took was marked. If I was walking on grass, it died. Flowers wilted-trees went to rot. It was impossible for me to get anywhere near a garden.

I had trouble, I'll admit.

"Leave me be, _bunny. _I don't have a fucking thing to say to you."

"It's our business what you do," he warned.

"Is it?" I spun around. "Last I checked, it was my father you were concerned about. Going to kill me too?"

The rabbit huffed, thumping his foot more ferociously.

"Normally, I wouldn't bother," he said, "But..."

"But _what?"_

"Jack's concerned."

"Why the fuck does Jack care?" I tried to ignore the stirring in my gut.

"He used to talk to you when you were a kid. Says you were friends."

"That was before my father died," I spat.

"Listen..." the bunny sighed, "about Pitch-"

"Save it," I shook my head. "I don't want to hear it."

"Well you're bloody well gonna hear it, kid! Jack wants to talk to you-"

"I don't want to-"

"And I'm not getting in that boy's way. He's got a wicked temper. _You know that."_

"He may as well talk to a wall," I walked toward the bank of the pond, finally skipping the rock I held.

"Give him a chance to talk some sense into you. You could be a great addition to the-"

"DON'T YOU DARE...ask me to join you," I growled. "Death and fear don't mix with the puppy love you give to kids. The only thing I bring to this world is realism. So let me teach the truth in peace."

The bunny finally seemed to give up. With a defeated huff, he tapped his foot and a hole appeared in the ground next to him, "Jack's on his way. I don't care what you say, but you're not gonna harm my mate, alright? Are we clear?"

I glared at him, "Crystal."

**Chapter 3: Frozen Confrontation**

**Here's the second one. Hope you like it. Listen to:**

**The Morning After - Dave Porter**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Frozen Confrontation**_

One could not help but admire him.

As a bringer of death, I was so used to watching beauty die. But you can't just kill Jack Frost-this I learned from my father.

And Jack was beautiful, alright. With that feathery, wind-tossed hair, whiter than snow and speckled with frost, though it looked soft to the touch. His eyes-ah, hell-his _eyes..._

Such a shocking electric blue, it made you want to die.

I loved that he only went barefoot. That he was so tall he always hit the tree branches he passed with his head, and by extension, froze them.

He had a cold look about him-but of course he did. His lips were almost purple, as if he'd spent the night in an igloo. Maybe he had...but all I could think about was wanting to kiss those frozen lips.

I mentally slapped myself.

_Idiot-_-he was one of the Guardians. He helped to kill my father.

Oh, but it was so hard to ignore the pull between us. Though I would never admit it aloud, and he probably wouldn't either, we were drastically similar.

The only difference was that the things he touched slept-they didn't die.

Still, I loved that he had such an uncontrollable affect on the world. He could embrace a woman and never feel her warmth, while at the same time give her hypothermia.

I could embrace a man and drain him of all his energy, all his happiness...

It was the same story on a different day.

We were loners, he and I. But, oh..._oh, _I wished...

God, how many dreams had I had about him? About wrapping my arms around those broad, sloping shoulders and smiling-proving to him that the cold could in no way affect me. Watching, wondering, waiting to see if that boyish grin would falter because he rested in the arms of a corpse.

I'd bet my life it wouldn't...

_Collis, get a grip!_

I'd been staring at him-like a moron...or a stalker. Take your pick.

He was sitting on the fence beside the pond, twirling his staff in one hand, his other arm draped casually over his knee, waiting for me to say something.

I sighed inwardly.

_Here we go again..._

It was always the same. That stupid, clever banter that wasn't even clever anymore. You killed my father, your father tried to hurt the children, blah, blah, blah...

I wanted a conversation with him to go somewhere for once! To actually attain some heat or real anger, some depth. I wanted to know things, to tell him things...

But no. The huge, invisible obstacle that was my father still sat between us. It would never be easy.

Hell, it would probably never work.

So, I resolved not to try, "Well, well, well...Captain Cold back from his rendezvous with the giggle team? I'm so pleased. Maybe he could do something about this heat wave right about now? That would be nice..."

"Nice to see you too, Collis."

I rolled my eyes, "What do you want, Jack? The rabbit says you're concerned, so you're concerned. If you want to tell me why, do so. If not, there's the road." I pointed just to be extra helpful, and _he _rolled his eyes this time.

Rolled his big, blue, beautiful-

_Stop it!_

"Listen, Collis. I've been watching you-"

"And that's not creepy at all-"

"Collis! Jesus...I'm watching _out _for you. We were friends when you were a kid-"

"Don't even go there. I was five, Jack. I don't remember a thing. And anyway, it was probably just me, staring up at you-starstruck. Ooh...Jacky Frost and my daddy know each other. Too bad I didn't know Jacky would murder daddy in the future!" I realized how loud I was yelling and immediately shrunk back, directing my eyes at the ground.

Jack hopped off the fence, and I watched his feet approach, "You're lying, Collis." His words were surprisingly gentle. "You _do_ remember it. You used to call me Jacky."

I flushed, which would've been a shock for anyone. I was as pale as a ghost.

"That was just a guess," I said quickly.

"Nope! Collis Black _does _remember me!" his voice was annoyingly joyous. "I'm so pleased," he mocked.

"Oh, just shut up and freeze something, Jack."

"Go kill a plant, Coll," he retorted.

I tried to mask the sting of it, shrugging weakly, "That's all I'm good for anyway." I nodded goodbye and started to walk away, back toward the forest.

"Ah, hell-Collis! You know I'm only joking."

"I know," I called over my shoulder. "That's all you ever do."

A gust of wind brushed up around me and Jack landed a few feet ahead, crossing his arms, "_Collis..."_

"What, Jack? I honestly don't know why you're so interested in me-in fact, why _any _of you are interested in me." I threw up my hands in exasperation. "I'm just a bad feeling in the back of someone's mind. I've never killed anybody and a little nightmare now and then's not gonna wreck your Sandman's believers. _Leave me alone."_

"I don't see it like that," he stressed.

"Yeah you do. You all do. See this?" I reached out and pressed lightly on the top of his hand. Within seconds, a purplish bruise formed on the skin. "That's all I am to you."

Jack glanced at the bruise while I rubbed my chilled fingers, then stared straight at me, and I was forced to suck in a breath and hold it.

Lord, I hated making eye contact with him.

It made you lose track of everything. Space, time-the world around you.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he whispered.

"Yes, it does..." I passed him with a sigh. "Go with your gut, Jack. It's worked for you before."

He murmured something I couldn't quite hear, but it sounded like, "No."

**Chapter 4: Frozen Distress**

**Alright guys, thanks for all the support even though it's still early. I'm trying not to move this relationship too fast, because that would be unrealistic-but don't worry. It won't be long. Listen to:**

**Better Alone - Carolina Liar**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Frozen Distress**_

The Guardians gave me a week of peace and quiet after that-but that was it. Apparently, after doing a little research, I learned that I had in fact committed a crime. Bastard child or not, I was still involved somehow.

_Apparently_, I couldn't just disappear.

But I guess I'd been expecting them to intervene for a long time now...

It was a Friday evening, I remember, and I was laying on my back, staring up at the stars. Those, at least, I wouldn't kill with my presence.

I remember that my hand had been resting on the log beside me.

I remember how it froze to it.

"You're too stubborn," I muttered, prying my hand off the wood and turning onto my side.

"Again, I repeat: _Concerned." _His voice came from above me, and I gasped, my eyes flicking upward, startled.

His foot was dangling off the branch above me, and he himself was seated comfortably up high in the tree, not looking at me.

"I doubt that," I huffed, turning away again-curling into myself so I wouldn't have to look at him. "You never care."

"Contrary to popular belief," he began, not sounding the least bit offended, "I'm not a complete ass."

I snorted, "Keep telling yourself that."

"What-" he hopped down from the tree quite abruptly, crouching over me, his proximity impossible to ignore, "you think I am?"

"Yes, actually-I do," I shifted to lay the other way.

"Ouch-that stings, Colly."

"_Don't_...call me Colly," I growled.

"Oh. Sorry, Colly. I'll work on it."

"Agh!" I rolled over swiftly and knocked him off balance. He toppled off me, lightly landing on the grassy ground.

Standing over him, I fixed the most menacing expression I could onto my face, "_What do you want me to do? _All this lead up-all these cryptic explanations! Just tell me what I've done wrong, how I can fix it and then leave me alone!"

Jack eyed me curiously, slowly getting to his feet.

"Come with me, Collis," he said carefully. "We'll help you straighten things out."

"There's nothing to straighten out-and I don't want your help. If this is a peace offering, I don't accept," and I pivoted, ducking into the hollow of the tree that led to my small underground home.

"And you say I'm stubborn..." I heard him grumble. Seconds later, he was inside-within my personal living space-and I tried not to lose my head. I kept my back to him, clenching one hand into a fist at my side as I yanked a canister of Pringles off the table.

"You need to leave," I whispered.

In a breath, he was right behind me, bracing his hands on the table, blocking me with his body. "You need to stop," he murmured in my ear.

I could not help but shiver.

He was close. _Too _close. And I didn't want this-this awful stirring in my gut that one could easily mistake for fear. I knew deep down that it wasn't fear-it was desire.

And _that _was what terrified me.

"_Please,_" I whispered desperately, my fight dissipating without my consent, "this is all I have."

"Silence-brooding...that is nothing. You have _nothing."_

The first tear I had shed since my father's death streaked down my face-and, gritting my teeth, I whirled around, gasping when I found us only inches apart.

"You know what I do..." I breathed, my whole body trembling, "I would kill everything. Everything that is good and beautiful in your world." I couldn't stop it. I was crying heavily-right in front of him.

_Me._

The epitome of bitterness, callousness.

I was weeping like an infant.

Jack stared at me with a strange expression that might've been sorrow. Reaching out, he gently dabbed his thumbs along my cheeks, freezing the tears.

I let my eyes meet his rather fearlessly this time-and slowly but surely, I began to sink into them...to fall into their depths. Wondrous...breathtaking...

_Stop! Stop! Stop!_

I blinked and dropped my gaze. The moment was gone, and with a sigh, Jack stepped back, giving me space.

Brushing the frost he'd speckled onto me off my cheeks, I turned back to the table, pushing away the Pringles and snatching up a bottle of Pepsi instead. "I don't think you're a bad man, Jack," I murmured, slowly unscrewing the top as if entranced by it.

After taking a large swig, I faced him once more, "And that's why I can't go with you. The rabbit didn't offer me sanctuary-not like you are. He told me I could be of assistance. _Assistance, _Jack...not that I could come and live with you."

He leaned back against the dirt wall, crossing his arms, and I tried to ignore the attraction I felt.

"Would you _want_ to come?" he asked softly.

"That doesn't matter. There's no use talking hypotheticals. I would not be accepted in your home, Jack. If anything, I would start a war-"

"_I want to know," _he said so forcefully it was almost a growl, stepping toward me-looming over my head.

I sucked in a breath, gazing up at him with frightened eyes, "I...I-_can't_, Jack. I'm sorry."

He huffed angrily in my face, turning and heading toward the hole that lead to the surface. But he stopped there, demanding, "So that's it? Nothing's going to change?"

I sat down in defeat, my head sinking into my hands. I was tired-so, _so _tired. "No...nothing changes. It's the way it has to be."

There was a long silence, and I thought perhaps that he might've left-that I could breathe again. But upon looking up, I found his tall, slender form still waiting in the doorway.

"You're a beautiful girl, Collis..." he said, his voice deep-final, and I either went very red or very pale.

"Don't waste the life ahead of you."

And he turned to leave.

Ah, hell-what can I say? I panicked...

"Wait, Jack!" I sprang up from the ground, rushing to him, and before I knew it, I'd wrapped my hands around his arm, pulling him back.

He looked shocked-shocked and a little of something else I couldn't quite name.

As the cold of his skin seeped into me, the sense started to bleed out. I looked down at his arm rather bashfully, rubbing my thumb in a dazed circle.

"You...you'll come back-won't you?" I whispered nervously.

"Have to..." he replied, and it was something of a croak-like his throat had run dry, "there's a cold front due."

A ghost of a smile colored my face, "Come and see me, won't you? When it happens..."

"Thought we were enemies."

"We were-we probably still are...I...I just..."

_Oh, shit...don't do it!_

"I can't help it."

"Can't help what?"

"I..."

_No..._

The words were forming in my brain, and just when they prepared to fire, I swallowed them back and forced out, "Nothing. I-um...goodnight, Jack."

And I let my hands slip from his arm, retreating back into the small space I called home.

**Chapter 5: Frozen Collision**

**Oh, my patient readers! Sorry this took so long, but I think you'll find it's worth it :) This is the breaking point. The **_**collision, **_**as it were. Listen to:**

**Flowers for a Ghost - Thriving Ivory**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Frozen Collision**_

The weeks before the cold front were lonesome. Warm, boring and lifeless. I didn't stop going to classes at Black River High, but I didn't put any more effort into them either.

I missed my father.

I missed Jack.

I don't know-maybe the idea of someone out there who still cared about me was comforting. Maybe I was just distracted by it.

I didn't have feelings for Jack. Never. No way in the hottest corner of Hell. I didn't, I wouldn't...I..._couldn't._

It just went beyond nature.

_Find the sum of all the interior angles for the polygon shown._

"No, thank you," I said to myself.

I turned the test in blank and stalked out of the classroom before the bell rang, thrusting my hands into my pockets as I went. Day to day life was getting gruesomely old. I was tired of being asked if my parents could meet for a conference with the teachers, no doubt to discuss my behavior-or lack of such, rather. I was tired of explaining that, no, I didn't have any parents.

Of course that wasn't how I said it. It was always, "oh, they're away. Vacationing." or "they're very busy," or plainly and simply sick. Excuses, excuses...

I glided my hand across the lockers as I strolled down the hallway, hardly a speckle of energy left in me to care about anything at the moment. When I reached the girl's bathroom, I slipped inside, locked the main door and dropped my bag with a sigh.

Pulling a pack of Marlboro's out of my pocket, I lifted a cigarette to my mouth. But just as I went to light it, a voice resonated off the thin walls, "That's really not healthy, Colls."

Without even batting an eyelash, although within I was racing around the room, bouncing off the walls, I lit the cigarette, took a drag and said calmly, "You're aware this is the _girl's _restroom."

Moments later, I saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror-saw him standing behind me, one brow raised, patient and gorgeous as ever.

"Yeah...so?" he shrugged.

"Last I checked, you had the male anatomy." The smoke rose in front of me, and I hopped up on the counter to disable the smoke alarm.

Jack watched me curiously, and then, with a dark smirk, challenged, "Last you checked?"

My foot slipped and I slammed down onto my tailbone, the counter's hard porcelain most definitely bruising me.

"W-_What?"_

Jack moved gracefully forward, turning around to lift himself onto the counter and sit beside me, "You said 'last you checked.' Been touching me while I sleep, baby?"

With furious glare, my cheeks flaming, I lifted my heel and slammed it down, aiming for his groin, "No-but I could _make _this the right bathroom for you!"

He evaded my heel easily, although I'm not sure how, and with a boyish laugh, floated away from me to rest on the edge of a stall.

"I thought you wanted me to come back, Collis," he said, and though the laughter was still in his voice, there was an undertone to it.

The memory flashed before me and I shook it away, "I was obviously not thinking straight. You shouldn't have taken advantage of me, Jack."

"Pray tell-how did I "take advantage of you."' he used air quotes as he spoke.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wincing as my tailbone throbbed, and said confusedly, "Well..._you know..."_

"I don't think I do."

"Jesus, Jack-can you give a girl a break? Have you _looked _in a mirror lately?" And then I tucked my head into my sweatshirt to hide my embarrassment.

"I...don't understand..."

I could tell by his tone that he was genuinely confused this time. But...I couldn't. There was no way I could say it out loud.

_You're beautiful._

_Handsome._

_Your eyes._

_Your face._

_Your body._

"It's nothing. Never mind," I mumbled.

"Collis..." he nudged my cheek gently with his cold, bare foot, and I shivered.

"What, Jack? I thought you had a cold front to take care of."

I took another long drag from my cigarette, watching the smoke fog up the mirror.

There was an aching silence...and then he heaved a great sigh, jumping down from the stall, "You're never going to accept it."

I scoffed, "Accept _what?"_

"That people care about you. That _I _care about you."

I did my best to ignore the warmth that flooded into me. "You only care because you think I'm a threat."

_What are you doing, Collis? Don't. Isolate. Him._

"Think what you will-but one of these days, you're going to have a husband, kids-a _family..._and you are going to have to accept that they love you."

With a doubtful sniff, I turned away from him again, staring at my pathetic reflection in the mirror, "No one would marry _me..."_

"You know that isn't true," he squinted at me in disbelief. "You _must."_

"Well, I don't, so..."

"Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE!"

I jumped, turning in shock to stare at him.

I had never heard that word come out of his mouth.

Within a millisecond, he was upon me, gripping my shoulders roughly and giving me a violent shake.

"_Don't you understand!? This sadness! This pain! It's killing you, Collis! IT'S KILLING YOU!"_

My eyes widened even more, if possible, and a nervous laugh bubbled its way out from my lips, "I think you're being a bit dramatic, Ja-"

"I am _completely serious! _This is why they sent me, Collis! You are going to die! This...this "gift" that you have...it's a disease. A terminal fucking disease! It is a cancer inside of you, baby, and _you are going to die!" _His eyes were frantic-horrified, and his hands had frozen around my arms.

In sudden realization of how tightly he was holding me, his tense body forcefully relaxed, and he wrenched his hands off of me to set them more gently on my shoulders. From there, his head sunk, forehead brushing against mine.

"If-if you don't stop this...get some help...you're going to die. And I will be _damned _if I let that happen."

I was at a loss for words.

His rage-the shouting-still seemed to echo in the bathroom, and I was vaguely aware of my cigarette burning my hand.

I dropped it.

"I-I don't-I...don't..._no, _Jack. I can't be. I-I don't feel as if I'm-"

"It's the combination-your mother and your father's blood. The mix is deadly." The words were coming out so fast, I could barely understand them. "But-I won't let it, baby! I promise. Never. Never fucking _ever. _You're not going to. I promise you. I swear on my goddamned soul, you _will not die."_

One quipped, long-held breath escaped me-but that was all.

And for some reason...some awful, cursed reason...the only thing I could say was, "That's why they sent you..."

Jack's electric eyes locked on mine, as if daring me to say it.

"That's the only reason you're here. I knew there had to be something-"

With an enraged growl, his frostbitten hands fisted in my hair, he yanked me forward and our lips crushed together.

The lifeless death of my own to the icy enigma of his...

Oh, good god...

_Oh. My. God._

Oh god, save me.

I was done.

I was gone.

I had fallen.

This was everything in the world. This was life to me. He was _breathing _life into me. Those marvelous lips, blue as winter, moving over my own.

That was all in existence.

I gave a small yelp of both shock and desire, and he swallowed the sound, pressing harder against me.

_Oh..._

More.

More!

_More!_

I grabbed at the old, withered collar of his sweatshirt, dragging him to me. _Anything_. Anything at all to get him closer.

This was it.

We had _collided._

Another breathless moan escaped me, and it seemed to jumpstart him.

His hands slid down to my hips and he clutched me so tight I thought I would burst-in the good way.

Shoving me up against the wall, there was no more gentle Jack. I knew now-or perhaps I had always guessed-that this would not be a gentle love. This would be rough, fiery..._desperate._

And by god, I wanted that.

In fact, I wanted very ungodly things at this moment.

I wanted to glide my hand down his strong, frozen torso and go for the fasten on his pants.

I wanted to touch him.

I wanted to _grab _him.

Fuck!

He hadn't even put his tongue in my mouth yet-speaking of which...

I opened my mouth wide, inviting him in, and he wasted no time, slamming his ice-cold tongue inside, pressing it against the roof of my mouth.

We began a sort of oral battle for dominance, sucking, nipping, even _biting _each other.

He jerked my chin roughly to the side, and I could feel the blissful bruises forming. Guiding his mouth down the curve of my neck, he acted with such skill that I was a little intimidated.

Where had this...this _beast _come from?

He was working diligently on a love bruise that would appear, certainly, on a very obvious place at the middle of my neck.

I didn't care.

I was _so fucking beyond _caring.

And then he pulled away.

Too soon. Fuck! Much too soon!

He must've known I was aching for him.

We looked flustered-hell we looked as if we'd practically had sex.

And then I realized there was a girl knocking forcefully on the bathroom door, "Hey! Open up! Come on-people need to go out here!"

The guilt was so evident on Jack's face that a horrible, steaming pain began in the pit of my stomach.

He hadn't liked it.

I'd done something wrong.

I must have.

But then he said, "I'm sorry. _Oh god_, I'm sorry."

I reached out toward him, but he was backing away.

"I-I just got-"

"No! Jack...wait!"

He disappeared.

But not before he said one last thing.

"From day one, Collis. _From day one..."_

**Chapter 6: Frozen Thoughts**

**Well, I hope you're all enjoying it. I, for one, am having a great time writing about these two. As always, I am open to requests, reviews, critiques and PM"s. Thanks for reading :) Listen to:**

**You - Breaking Benjamin**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Five**_

_**Frozen Thoughts**_

His last words echoed over and over relentlessly in my head.

_From day one, Collis...from day one._

What did that mean? What did any of this mean? How could he just leave like that-leave me breathless and confused, alone in a high school bathroom?

I stumbled drunkenly off the counter, walking slowly toward the door where the girl outside was still pounding. When I opened it, she stopped abruptly, eyeing me with suspicion.

I didn't recognize her, and I didn't give her a second glance.

I just brushed past in a wide-eyed daze.

Maybe she said something to me...maybe she didn't. I couldn't exactly remember.

All I _did _remember was walking out of the school, down the not-so-crowded street and into the forest. My fingers trailed absently along the wooden fence by the pond, and as I passed, I watched the water slowly go still.

And then a frost sprinkled across it-and it froze.

A warm, bubbling delight-sort of like champagne-filled me, and I thought to myself, a dark blush creeping across my cheeks,

_Jack was here._

My fingers left the fence to reach for my lips.

_And here..._

They traced down to the tender spot on my chin where he'd thrust my chin to the side.

_And here..._

Finally, they came to rest on what must've been a dark love bruise he'd formed on my neck. I massaged it gently as I walked, envisioning him in my head-remembering the feeling.

_And there._

My god, what was happening?

I'm sure this wasn't even _legal._

_Christ, _what would the Guardians do? Have me arrested? Maybe even killed...

Which brings me back to the other dilemma...

What the hell did he mean when he said I was going to die? Like-_literally? _He had to be joking!

He _had_ to be...

A sudden image of my father flashed before my eyes, and the warm buzz Jack had left within me was instantly gone, replaced by cold dread.

Would we share the same fate?

It would be poetic wouldn't it? His daughter dying the same way he had.

_Ergh! _I had to stop thinking about it.

I shook my head distinctly, pushing it away and trying to think once more of my first kiss. Of a memory people say would be timeless-I would never forget it.

Well, fuck-I didn't plan to.

I wanted him to do it again.

I wanted to do all those things I fantasized about doing in the bathroom.

_You're fucking shameless! _my conscience screamed. And it was the truth. If I did any of those things, I'm almost positive I wouldn't regret it.

Ah, I suppose this was where my true dark side was unleashed.

Through sex.

How..._interesting..._

Jack hadn't been gentle with me. Not one bit. And I'd loved that to high Heaven. In terms of why, I couldn't be sure.

I didn't think I was into Sadomasochism-but then again, I'd never tried it, so...

_Stop! Stop! Stop!_

My thoughts were taking frightening twists.

I needed to clear my head.

I needed to go kill something...get back into my normal routine.

With a huff of determination, I moved more quickly into the forest, clenching my fists and keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of green.

I found a particularly happy looking flower, growing out from underneath a rock-and without batting an eyelash, dried up its roots and watched it wilt.

Perhaps the strangest was the small sense of guilt I got.

I'd never felt it before-but it was there. Just a faint, invisible pulse in my gut that left as quick as it'd come.

I moved on, swallowing my discomfort.

It was getting dark, now, the sun setting peacefully behind me.

When I reached the hollow tree I called home, I found it decked impressively with icicles. It made me grin impulsively and I actually had to force myself to stop, running a hand down my face with both exhaustion and disbelief.

I wondered if he was still nearby.

The idea made hope stir in my chest.

"Jack!" I called out, not thinking. _"_Jack,are you there?"

SIlence.

I felt nothing but a soft breeze brushing up against my cheek. But I did not fail to notice that the breeze was _cold._

Thank god-the damned heat wave was over.

But Jack was gone too.

He'd done his job.

With a defeated sigh, I retreated into the hollow, kicking off my shoes and pulling the wooden slab I'd made in front of the hole to block the wind.

My bed had never looked so enticing.

As soon as I'd dumped my sweatshirt on the chair and torn off my jeans, I climbed in half-naked and began the tiresome process of shutting off my brain.

Tonight, it would be especially difficult.

I knew I would be thinking about Jack.

About his hands-his lips. His _forcefulness._

_Oh..._it made me quiver with desire. Beneath my covers, I squeezed my thighs together, a low moan escaping my lips.

And just then, without warning, a large gust of wind shook through the hollow, blowing my sheets off and knocking over several glasses.

I gave a small yelp, shooting up to a sitting position.

What the hell?

I'd covered the entrance. The plank was still in place.

Growling in frustration, I got to my feet and moved toward the door, checking for holes in the wood.

As far as my hands could tell, there were none.

But...I could sense another presence in the room.

_Oh, god...it's Jack!_

I couldn't turn around.

Well-more like _wouldn't._

Glancing down at the floor n front of me, I searched in earnest for some sort of covering. I was only in my underclothes. Bra-underwear..._that was it._

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

And then the voice came.

"Don't scream."

And it wasn't Jack's.

**Chapter 7: Frozen Intrusion**

**Hehe...your reviews make me giggle. I want to thank all of you for the support and respect and love you have shown this story. It is young and the characters are still developing, therefore I am amazed at the already fervent reactions I am getting to it. That being said, this chapter is for you guys, creepy as it may be...Love to all! Listen to:**

**Change (In the House of Flies) - Deftones**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Six**_

_**Frozen Intrusion**_

When someone says "don't scream," that's usually the first thing you do. At least, that's what I thought. But I didn't.

I froze up, feeling as if every muscle in my body had cramped at once.

It was almost..._painful._

I knew that voice. I'd heard it once before, when I was an infant.

My mind should have been scrambling for a way to defend myself, or at least for a possible escape route, but...this is me we're talking about. I'm not rational. The only thing I could seem to draw to mind were Jack's words.

"_This is why they sent me, Collis! You are going to die!"_

...and I didn't know why I was thinking it.

"Sweet, _sweet_ Collis," the voice purred. "I'm sure you remember me..."

A violent retort shot up my throat, but it was choked by a weak and trembling whisper.

"Yes...yes, I remember you..."

My stomach was churning and I had to steady myself with the wall.

"Must say-you've grown up beautifully. Such a low voice...my, my..." even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel his eyes raking over my body, "I get excited just hearing it."

Finally, I managed to voice my own thoughts, "What the hell do you want?"

He clucked his tongue, "Such a waste...you could be saying much prettier things..."

"I don't aim to please you!" Finally, steeling myself, I whirled around to face the filthy intruder. A vague memory of that sharp, smirking face leaning over me many years ago clouded before my eyes.

_You are going to die!_

With a wince, I tried to shake Jack's voice from my head-a horrible contrast as I stared at the man before me.

Alastor...the demon.

Of what, I couldn't remember-but I knew he was a bad one. Possibly one of the _worst._

"Ah-even more gorgeous from the front," he remarked, making no attempt to hide his tongue as it slithered across his lower lip. His face was handsome, there was no denying-but there was a cruelty to it that ruined the effect. Long black hair fell over his eyes...dark, forbidding, _red-pupiled _eyes.

I tried to ignore how much larger he was than me...how easy it would be for him to win-should I fight him.

_What do you mean, __should I?_My conscience screeched. _Of course you're going to fight him!_

"You have no right to be here," I bit out, gritting my teeth and crossing my arms to shield what I could of my exposed body.

"Don't I, though?" He examined his fingernails for a moment, and then took one large step toward me.

I froze up all over again, backing into the wall.

He laughed.

"Your father and I were close, you know. _Very _close."

"Don't talk about my father!" I growled.

With a cocked brow, he took another step-but I could back no further away.

If possible, a wholly more severe surge of panic ignited in my gut.

"Oh? Would you rather I talk about..." another step," this truly magnificent..." and another, "lethal..." closer, "_masterpiece _of a body."

Before I could even glare at him, his hands shot out and grabbed me by either side of my face.

With a gasp of horror and protest, I tried to yank away, a startled cry shaking out of my lips-but it was useless. He was much too strong for me.

"Don't look so surprised," he mewed, lowering his face toward mine. "With you dressed like this, how did you expect me to react?"

"Get out!" I shouted, wracking in his grip. I could feel bruises forming on my cheekbones-and not the good kind.

Speaking of which-

"What's this?" he whispered, and there was a genuine note of disbelief in his voice. I felt his fingers trace slowly over the love bite Jack had branded onto my throat.

And it made me furious.

What right had he to touch something so remarkable? So powerful? So loving? It had taken but a day, yet I had already decided that Jack was the only one who could touch me this way.

I despised the feel of this man-no-this _thing._

"Does she have a lover?" he breathed, likely trying to intoxicate me with the overly hot breath he panted onto my neck.

"Yes," I seethed. "She has a lover."

He made no move to back away. If anything, his grip proved tighter.

"Do tell..."

I was _not _about to endanger Jack. Alastor could go fuck himself.

"Fuck off," I spat.

"Language, Collis," he clicked his tongue again.

"I will ask you once more," I hissed. "_What do you want?"_

"Oh...nothing I don't already have," he mused, a dark smile spreading across his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, doesn't it?" He allowed his hands to travel downward onto my collarbone, and I abruptly began to struggle again.

What could I do?

Call out for Jack?

Somehow, the odds of Jack fighting a demon-_this _demon-didn't seem favorable.

Alastor buried his face into my neck, overwhelming me with a spicy scent, and I gave a loud shriek when I felt his tongue dash along my skin.

"No! _NO!_ LET GO OF ME!" I screamed.

He moved up to bite sharply on my ear, whispering, "Until next time, my darling girl..."

And just like that...

...he was gone.

I collapsed.

Both shock and complete terror bled through my veins, and I felt as if they bled _out _of me, staining the cold floor of the hollow where I lay.

_You are going to die!_

And it finally occurred to me why those words kept ringing in my head.

Alastor.

Better known as "the Executioner."

**Chapter 8: Frozen Distractions**

**Yay! Christmas break! Expect some frequent updates over the next few weeks, but I can't make any promises. A merry Christmas, happy Hanukah and happy Kwanzaa to all! Listen to:**

**Remedy - Disciple**

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**Frozen Distractions**_

I had expected to have nightmares that night. When things like that happen, I usually can't escape them...

But it appears positive emotion trumps the negative.

Jack's kiss canceled out any form of nightmare I was supposed to receive.

I can't say I remember the dream...I only knew it wasn't something even mildly appropriate. It was hot, it was fast, it was hard...

I know because I woke up sweating and panting with a delicious sensation running all over my body.

But then Alastor's face popped into my head, and the desire turned into sickness and terror.

I stumbled over to the wastebasket and retched up my fear, my disgust...

The look on the demon's face told me he didn't just want to scare me. He wanted to _do _things to me. To _violate_ me...

My first thought was to tell Jack immediately-but I shot it down at once. After everything he'd told me yesterday, he would go straight to the Guardians. And that was the last thing I needed.

No, I simply needed to keep him around me-keep him near. Certainly, Alastor wouldn't approach with a Guardian close by. They'd have his head.

I dressed quickly for school...and then shortly after realized that it was Saturday. But I didn't want to stay in the hollow.

It felt contaminated.

So I left for town-something I rarely did, planning to seek the comfort of a good old-fashioned hot chocolate.

I relished in the sight of my breath fogging in the air, thinking instantly of a certain pair of cold, sensuous lips. Oh, how I longed to kiss him again-but that would go against my nerve, against my famous self-restraint.

No, it was a physical attraction. Nothing more. And physical attractions I could push away.

The small corner cafe was open, though there were few meandering about due to the sudden cold. I opened the icy door, the bell tingling and alerting the cashier-a plump, rosy-cheeked woman who looked to be about thirty five, a big smile on her face.

"Good morning," I whispered, rubbing my hands together.

"Morning, honey," she drawled in a heavy Southern accent. "What can I get for ya?"

"Just a hot chocolate, please-oh, and one of those," I pointed to the poppyseed muffins in the glass case by the menu.

"4.95, honey."

I paid her in quarters, which was probably very unorthodox, but the smile never left her face. I decided I liked this woman-Jenny, her name tag said-and I'd try not to kill anything in her shop.

My drink was piping hot, and she'd warmed up the muffin for me, so as I sat down at the small table by the window, staring out at the overcast morning, I was cocooned in a fabulous heat.

The hot chocolate seeped down my throat, and I closed my eyes, sitting back in the chair. The memories of Alastor were slipping away, and it gave me a little bit of hope. Maybe his affect on me was not so grand as it seemed.

When I opened my eyes, something in the window caught my attention.

The frost had been written on, mirror-imaged so that I could read it.

_Behind the cafe._

_-J_

The warmth that filled me now made the hot chocolate seem like nothing.

So as not to seem rude, I took both my muffin and the drink, tossing them when I'd reached the trashcan on the street outside.

Moving silently through the small alleyway, I turned the corner to the back of the shop, looking around for a moment.

No sooner was I grabbed roughly by the shoulders, yanked backward and forced up against the wall.

I was not afraid. Not for one second.

I knew this touch.

Jack delved into my neck with his mouth, bathing me in hot yet icy kisses. A small groan of content fell from my lips, and he smothered it soon after.

We did not hesitate to start our violent tongue-play this time. I forced mine in, hands knotting in his hair and crushing him hard against me.

_Wait-you're supposed to be preventing this!_

Jack's hands slipped up under my shirt.

_Fuck you, left brain._

I grabbed at his hips, grinding against him with wanton shamelessness. I did not feel the cold-nor did I think he could feel the death.

He broke away only slightly to gasp, "What the hell's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. Shut up." I brought him back to me with one sharp tug, feeling his chuckle rumble down my throat.

I couldn't stop myself. The feeling of his hands and lips roaming all over me was my undoing.

I reached for his zipper.

"Easy," he murmured, taking my wrist and pulling it away.

"Who said this was easy?" I panted, trying for it again.

He pushed harder against me, "No, Collis-look..." he backed up from me, running his hands nervously through his hair and turning away, "normally I don't exercise restraint, but...but I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hur-"

He spun around fast, pressing a cold finger to my lips and rendering me speechless in more than one way.

"And I don't want you to regret it."

It was a shock-how rough he could be one moment, and then so gentle the next...

"I just-I just think we should put some more time between us before we..." he trailed off, turning away again. "I mean, I don't even know why you want me to-"

"Maybe I'm lonely, Jack," I said, and he didn't miss the angry undertone to my voice.

"Oh, trust me, baby-I want you. _Bad. _I just don't think you should make it this easy for me..."

"Ah..." I rose a brow, "so Jack Frost likes a bit of foreplay."

He grinned.

The ridiculousness of the conversation-of the whole situation-seemed to hit me, and I started to laugh, "Yeah...alright. Foreplay." I leaned forward, took his bottom lip into my mouth and bit down abruptly, feeling a delicious shockwave shake through him.

Then I pulled away, "See you around..." and I started off down the alley.

"Wait-" he called after me, stunned. "What are you doing?"

I glanced over my shoulder, smirking at him, "Playing hard to get..."

I walked home in peace.

I hadn't thought of Alastor once.

**Chapter 9: Frozen Fright-Fest**

**Alright! Sorry! I know I haven't been consistent on answering reviews so I'm just going to take care of it in one go, right now! :)**

**Collis's name is pronounced "call-iss"**

**A lot of you have mentioned that you wanted a clearer description of Collis. I'll tell you, I was actually intentionally vague on the subject. Why? Because I want you to see Collis through Jack's eyes. I am waiting to give a detailed description until the first Jack POV chapter (Which is soon, I promise.)**

**Yes, I use the term "Baby" as affectionate, because in all honesty I find it sexy as hell. Sorry if this bothers anyone, but it's not going anywhere.**

**Yes, Jack did just tell her she was going to die, but Collis is a very frazzle-brained character. Things tend to slip her mind when she is around a certain very-handsome young gentleman.**

**Grammer Nazis are no enemies here! I hate it when I find typos in my stories! Please, please, PLEASE tell me whenever you find any! :)**

**To the reader who suggested the songs I'm So Sick, Face Down, and Animal I Have Become, I ADORE YOU! Yes, I already knew these songs! But I love them! I'm glad you know my taste, good friend.**

**Yes, I did in fact base her appearance off of someone :)**

**And to my one lovely, yet slightly confused reviewer, her name is COLLIS, not CRYSTAL. But I love you anyway :) lolololo! An autocorrect problem, perhaps?**

**No, I do not think the CIA invented the internet, lol...but maybe you're right :)**

**Yes, I will bring the Guardians into the story as soon as possible!**

**To everyone else who simply reviewed with praise-I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Anyway, back to the story. Listen to:**

**Get It Faster - Jimmy Eat World**

**Enjoy :)**

_**~This chapter is dedicated to Happy94Goth for the absolutely CHARMING review~**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**Frozen Fright-Fest**_

Foreplay? What the hell had I been thinking? Jack had just told me I was going to die (which I still hadn't asked him about) and I wanted to screw around?

My father may as well have been the bringer of idiocy.

Regardless, I had to mention it to him next time we met. No amount of kissing could distract me...right?

I mentally rolled my eyes at myself.

Walking into P.E, I took in the sight before me-and felt like dying.

The metal cage container filled with red, leather balls was not encouraging in the least. I should've cut class today.

Dodgeball.

"Dress out quick, guys!" Coach Dormett called, blowing her shrill whistle. "I'm giving you a game day."

Everybody else looked thrilled, but personally-I would've rather run the mile.

Shrugging on my loose gym shorts and baggy black T-shirt, I ignored the two cheerleaders who intentionally bumped into me on the way out of the locker room.

Someday I might've just poisoned their Botox.

The gym was already crowded with the guys in our class, who were twirling dodge balls lazily on the tips of their fingers and trying in vain to look like they weren't showing off.

But I didn't fail to notice the distinct change in temperature.

What had probably been a sixty degree gym had swiftly plummeted to about thirty.

An uninvited grin stretched across my face, and as I passed the shivering students, I snatched a ball off the rack.

This was going to be fun...

"Split into two teams-girls on one side, boys on the other," the coach said.

There were instant groans, mostly from the girls' side, and one of those moronic cheerleaders whined, "But Coach Dormett! We'll lose. Collis doesn't even try!"

The coach rose an eyebrow at her.

"It's cool, coach," I tossed the ball from one hand to the other. "I'll take the boys' side-make them lose for a change."

She actually laughed, nodding as she went to blow her whistle again. "Divide at the line," and she pointed to the red tape on the floor in the middle of the gym. "Everybody grab a ball."

There were some snickers at that, and while the few stragglers went to the rack, I leaned back against the folded bleachers, feeling Jack's distinct presence beside me.

"This is your idea of foreplay?" I whispered, still grinning.

"The word play is involved. right?" he breathed, and I realized just how close he was. His voice had come from mere inches away, whistling against my ear and making me shiver.

"Why won't you let me see you? They certainly can't." I gestured to the class.

His hand ghosted over my bare knee, and I gasped.

"More fun this way..."

I felt him grip my hips, squeeze tightly and then brush his lips over the back of my neck. "Who do you hate the most in this class?"

My grin widened.

"Those two," I pointed discreetly to the cheerleaders.

"Let's save them for last, then," and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Go on...get in line."

I sauntered away from him, swinging my hips playfully as I juggled the ball.

The boys were looking at me doubtfully, and I turned to them with a wink.

"On my whistle, fire away," Coach said, "but no head shots, no spikes and no...oh, whatever it is you call it-atom bombs."

There were a couple of whistles from the guys, and one smacked another on the shoulder.

"Are we clear?"

There was a chorus of affirmatives.

"Alright...on your mark..."

It got colder behind me.

"...get set..."

I glanced sideways at the floating ball no one seemed to notice.

"GO!"

Balls sailed, and Jack immediately yelled "Duck!"

I crouched down, watching his ball fly like a torpedo into a bratty looking girl in front. She was knocked off her feet easily, and landed rather roughly on her backside, screaming.

I laughed, springing back up to lob my ball into the back of another girl's head. She toppled, taking out one of her teammates on the way down.

"Marcus! I said no head shots! Automatic out!" Dormett shouted.

"But it wasn't-"

"OUT!"

Jack started laughing too, quietly, so that no one would hear.

Within a matter of minutes, he and I had demolished half the girls' team-a good fifteen of them-and I had a number of the boys staring at me in awe.

That was when Jack took it to the next level.

He openly levitated a ball, and there was a chorus of gasps in the gym. A frost-like sparkle shimmered around it like a halo, and then it catapulted forward and slammed into one of the cheerleaders I'd pointed out.

But she didn't just fall.

She froze.

Like an ice sculpture.

And I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, watching as the girls ran up to her, screaming bloody murder.

He did it again, with another player, and she froze mid-fall.

"TIME-OUT!" the coach shouted, but even she couldn't tell where the balls were coming from.

Jack's deep, maniacal laughter was loud and clear now, filling the gym and echoing off the walls.

The fluorescent lights began to flicker above us, radiating with power and then freezing over.

After seeing this, my laughter started to die down. What was he doing? Had he gone completely mad?

The floor grew icy. freezing to the soles of our shoes, and I started to panic.

"Jack..." I whispered. "What are you doing?"

The laughter increased, and with it came a dark edge.

Someone in the room pulled the fire alarm, and everyone bolted for the exits. shrieking like maniacs.

Only I stayed behind-but I didn't feel safe.

I was frightened.

"Jack!" I cried. "Stop!"

I felt him come to a halt right in front of me, and the lights stopped flickering.

"So I was right..." he said, and something about his voice made me take a step back.

"Right about what?"

"The identity of your lover, little miss."

And the voice was no longer Jack's...

Not.

At.

All.

Alastor made himself visible then, taking advantage of my shock to move closer.

"Demons are excellent mimics, Collis. I thought you, of all people, should know that..."

**Chapter 10: Frozen Blood & Thumbprints**

**Okay, try not to hate me. :( CAUTION: Dark, sexual themes. Listen to:**

**Murdered Love - P.O.D. (I REALLLLLLY RECOMMEND THIS ONE!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**Frozen Blood & Thumbprints**_

Needless to say, I froze up like a popsicle.

The fire alarm was still blaring in my ears, the bright red lights flashing hypnotically around the dark gym-and he was there.

Staring at me.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice meek, for what felt like the hundredth time.

The demon quirked a dark brow, "I had thought my intentions were obvious..."

"Do you intend to hurt me?" I spat.

A wicked grin spread across his face, "That depends on your definition of pain."

Chills ran up my spine, and I took several wobbly steps back, shaking my head profusely. How was it that this man could make me lose my nerve?

I never lost my nerve.

As I watched him rumple a hand through his dark, shiny hair, something suddenly dawned on me-and I felt horribly sick.

"It was...it was-_you._ In the alleyway!"

The grin widened, "Was it, kitten? How can you be sure you're right?" He sauntered up to me with a dark sort of swagger, adding in a low tone, "How can you be sure you're wrong?"

I was visibly shaking now...just the_ idea_ of kissing him...

"Careful...you could drive yourself _mad _thinking about it," and he licked his lips. "Come, darling. Let me touch you again. You were so free with me a moment ago..."

When he reached for me, I slapped his hand away as roughly as I could-and a scorching sort of heat pulsed into my skin.

"Ah...there's the fire. I do love it about you, Collis. So headstrong..."

"Leave me alone!" I cried, backing myself into the folded bleachers.

Fuck.

Now I was trapped.

"I'm afraid you're really not in a position to order me around," he clicked his tongue. "After all...I am the one with the contract."

My nails dug into the polished wood behind me, "Contract? What are you-"

"Remember your father? Silly question-of course you do. Dear old dad..."

"I told you not to speak of him!" I screeched. _"Ever!"_

"You speak so highly of a man...who-well, he really didn't love you at all, did he?"

"How dare you-" I had the audacity to take a step forward, raising my hand as if to strike him. But he drew something from his suit jacket-an envelope, it seemed-and held it out to me.

I hesitated for a long while, counting the possibilities in my head that it could be rigged. Poison, maybe? Or a bomb?

But then he sighed and slapped it down on my palm.

I could only wince before I realized there was nothing to it.

Just a thick manilla envelope.

"Read it, my love. Every word. And don't try-it won't burn or tear." With a shock to my lips, he brushed his fingers over them, and shortly after disappeared, a small trail of smoke the only thing he left behind.

I felt like throwing up.

Screaming.

_Something._

But all I cold do was turn robotically and walk to the door of the gym, passing the two frozen figures of the girls in my class.

All the way home, I tread like a zombie, eyes glazed over, tripping on things...

And even in my little hollow, I did not feel safe.

So I curled up in the corner on the floor, tucking my knees to my chest and staring at the envelope in my hand.

I think it must've taken me an hour to muster the courage to open it.

The words were written in careful black ink-pages and pages of them...and with a final swallow to prepare myself...

I read.

_A Binding Contract Between Souls_

_An agreement signed in blood and word, this is and shall be the law. Enacted by the Clan of 15, this contact is binding and final. Under no circumstances may it be used as a war device, but only in payment of debts owed._

_Those in debt must sign in blood and word. Those receiving must sign in blood and word._

_To he/she who is indebted, state your debt:_

Instantly, I recognized my father's curling script, scrawled messily across the page.

_I have disgraced my brethren and renounced their claim on me. I shall offer up the due payment._

It returned to the formal, printed handwriting.

_To he/she who is receiving, state your claim:_

And now the handwriting shifted to one of dark, thin lines and jagged edges.

_I claim what is most precious to the indebted, when she is of age. Collis Carlin Black._

I stopped breathing. No...no, no, no. He wouldn't have-he couldn't-

But the end of the page had been reached...and all that was left were the two signatures. Alastor's and my father's, stained with their own thumbprint of blood.

He sold me.

To repay a debt.

Panting heavily, I rose up to my knees, squeezed my eyes shut in agony and screamed.

I screamed until my ears bled and my throat ran dry.

Until my voice cracked and faded, and my head ached something awful.

My father.

MY FATHER.

He had sold me into slavery.

For hours I lay there on the floor, weeping like a child as I tried to chase the image of my bastard father from my head.

And then I realized how many more pages there were.

Sniffing, I crawled back toward the papers, grabbing them roughly and leaning against the wall, trying to steel myself.

Then I turned to page two.

_The conditions to be followed completely and willingly by Collis Carlin Black at the age of eighteen years._

_She is to obey every word of her Master, Alastor Debarbarack, without fail._

_She is to devote her body and mind to her Master for his pleasures and satisfaction._

_She is to perform every act ordered of her._

_She is not to engage in sexual relations with another man or woman._

_She is not to have sexual intercourse with another man or woman._

_She is not to pleasure another man or woman._

_Should she disobey any of these rules, due punishment will be decided and enforced by her Master, to whatever degree necessary._

I started to hyperventilate.

Flipping through page after page, I found detailed and disgusting descriptions of the sort of "acts" I might be asked to perform for him.

Punishments.

Pleasures.

Defilements.

And when finally I reached the last page, I saw with horror, my four-year-old handwriting...my name signed on the line-accepting the terms.

And just beneath it...

My bloody thumbprint.

**Chapter 11: Frozen Breaking Points**

**Alright, I owe you guys an apology. I only just realized, reading back through the chapters, how long Jack's been gone. :/ I'm sorry! I promise, this is the last non-Jack chapter for now! Listen to:**

**Echoplex - Nine Inch Nails**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Ten**_

_**Frozen Breaking Points**_

_We start tonight._

The words were scrawled across the back of the envelope, so clear to me at that moment, they may as well have been burned into my skin.

My breaths were coming in short, desperate pants of horror and sickness, but finally..._finally _I made myself move.

Scrambling to unsteady feet, I stumbled over to my small chest of drawers, tearing it open and beginning to collect the warmest articles I possessed.

I was going to run away-to where, I did not know-but I was going to run away someplace he would never find me.

Pulling on a beanie and shrugging into my overcoat, I nearly strangled myself trying to wrap my scarf around my neck. And then I yanked down the emergency bag I'd had hanging from my coatrack for several years, and headed for the exit.

Something big and hard materialized in front of me, effectively knocking me down.

"Where _ever _are you going, my love?" Alastor whispered, his voice a horribly soft, sweet sound to my ears. He crouched at my feet, "Surely my company is not so bad..."

"You..." I choked on my words, but managed just barely to force out, "you are a _beast."_

A dark chuckle rumbled through him, "Why thank you, kitten..." Reaching out, he deftly pulled the combat boot from my foot, slipping off my sock shortly after and then tracing his long, tan finger up the bare sole. "Thank you _very much."_

I shrieked instantly in protest, kicking my legs violently-but I was not an idiot. I was no match for his size.

I knew the moment he straddled me that I would break my ribs trying to unseat him.

So I froze-like a china doll-and went completely limp beneath him instead.

He didn't like this. Not. One. Bit.

"No, no, no, my love-you have to participate..."

I allowed my eyes to glaze over, staring up at nothing in particular.

The soft tone was gone like a strike of lightning, "LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!" And he struck me across the face, so hard that I gasped, my head rolling to the side.

"Bitch..." he sighed, his former voice returning. "This contract is binding. I don't think I have to assure you that it will do well in a court of law. _You _signed it, kitten-and so did your legal guardian."

"He is not my guardian," I spat, my face screwing up at the mere thought of my father.

"Oh?" Alastor's hot breath blasted against my face as he laughed, "And who is? Don't tell me you think this...this Jack Whatever and what not is it? Oh, my darling, you can do _so _much better than that."

A growl escaped my lips.

"_Frost," _I ground out. "His name is _Frost."_

"I'll be sure to tell him you say hello-since you can't do it yourself..."

"YOU WON'T TOUCH HIM!" I screamed, straining against him and feeling my ribs pulse. "You-you _bastard!"_

"Actually, love, it's you who won't be touching him," he grinned, dark hair brushing against my forehead. "Me, on the other hand-well, I've a feeling we'll be quite familiar."

I writhed, refusing to let the tears return and break my nerve. "You've got another thing coming if you think I'll ever..._pleasure _you!"

"Well, it's a good thing I don't think. I just know." Alastor sat up, but it was easy for him to keep me pinned. "How about this, kitten? Let's take things slow, to start..."

Another growl fought its way up my throat, "You'll have to punish me. I won't be doing a thing."

"I do hope you _read _the disciplinary pages..." a crooked grin crinkled his face.

"Whips and chains...hardly anything I can't handle," I managed to get my voice to sound brave, but on the inside I was exploding with fear.

My pain tolerance may have been high, but Alastor did not look like the type to go easy, even-or perhaps, _especially-_when a woman was involved.

He rose a brow, biting his lip as his eyes scanned my body invasively, and I struggled (pointlessly) to shield myself.

"I don't know, darling...I may be wrong, but you're giving me..._impressions,"_ he purred the last word in my ear.

"W-What?" I bit out.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a masochist-that you _want _to be punished-"

"Yes, _I know what a masochist is!" _I shrieked. "I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but I have absolutely NO attraction to sadistic pricks like _you!"_

"Such language..." he clicked his tongue, "but I suppose I don't really mind. It's always more fun when it's rough."

I didn't mean to swallow as thickly as I did, and he laughed at my apprehension.

"You really are all bark and no bite-you know that?" he leaned down to my ear again, nuzzling it with his nose.

I shrank away as much as humanly possible...which turned out to be about a centimeter.

"For your sake, we _will _take it slow tonight," and he had the gall to sound as if he were actually doing me a favor. "But then I get what I want."

"Which is what?" I hissed.

Another deep chuckle, "You'll see..."

"Excuse my French, but _fuck you." _I managed to tear my head back far enough to spit in his face.

He wiped it away casually, "You need to broaden your vocabulary."

"Didn't I just tell you I was speaking French?" Okay, I knew I was pushing it... "Doesn't that impress you, _darling?"_

Ugh, the word tasted awful.

But no, I wasn't done-because I'm a goddamned idiot. I gently pulled my wrist from his grasp-so it seemed that was the way to do it-and traced my thumb down his sharp, bony jaw.

I was hoping he'd know I was taunting him...but he took it the wrong.

The wrongest way there was.

With a hungry growl, eyes aglow with lust, he crashed down on top of me and smashed our lips together.

I screamed into his mouth.

At the moment, that was all I could do.

God, this was horrible. And I couldn't decide what was the worst. One: The fact that I had, in matter of thirty minutes, become a demon's sex slave. Two: The fact that he was forcing himself upon me this very instant.

Or three.

Before I even state three, I'm going to let you know that I've already decided it's the worst.

The fact that I was enjoying it.

Don't murder me just yet! Please, let me explain!

I was a teenager, after all-my hormones were raging. Add to that, I'd been going through puberty four times as long as anyone else-because I age at one-fourth the rate of a normal human. It's bound to do something to a girl's mind-to her sex drive.

Add to _that, _I told you what this guy looked like.

If I didn't know him-and if I didn't know Jack-I would probably be swooning.

But I _don't swoon._

And I _don't _like being forced.

Except perhaps, in the occasional moment where Jack is too rough with me-

Fuck, Collis! Mind in the moment!

I was doing everything in my power not to respond to Alastor's ravenous mouth, but it was difficult-I was so aware of it. Of his deceptively soft lips...

Jack's lips were rougher-more bruised and less slippery.

_Oh, Jack...if only this was you._

Where had he gone? In one of my few hours of need, where was my knight in shining-well, frozen-armor?

Far enough not to hear my cries.

Alastor's hands quite suddenly slid up my waist to cup my breasts, and I gasped, trying fruitlessly to swat him away, "You said _slow!"_

"Oh, kitten," he cooed. "This _is _slow."

To my shame, a choking sob wracked its way out of my chest, and he could see as plain as daylight that he was fully able to-and probably would-break me.

**Chapter 12: Frozen Runaway**

**Alright, sorry guys! I know it's been a while. But I wrote you a long one just to beg forgiveness. (AND Jack is in this one! 3) Again, I apologize for the wait. Listen to:**

**Is Your Love Strong Enough? - How To Destroy Angels (YOU MUUUUUSSSSSSSTTT LISTEN TO THIS ONE! PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE I BEG OF YOU! PLAY IT AND REPEAT IT UNTIL THE CHAPTER IS OVER! PLEAAAAASSEEE!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_**Frozen Runaway**_

Alastor's idea of "taking it slow" was the closest I'd ever come to losing my virginity.

The thought sickened me.

His invisible handprints were all over me-on my breasts, on my thighs. I'd never been naked before a man until this moment.

But I suppose he was hardly a man...so this didn't count.

Well, it counted for me-in my head.

I was traumatized, just staring as he circled my naked body. At some point during the first oral attack, he'd brought me to my feet, and then promptly shredded-yes, literally _shredded-_my clothes.

As he continued his orbit-I being the figurative sun-he tugged off his dark jacket and shirt, revealing to me his bare torso.

He was covered in tattoos.

I usually didn't mind tattoos. In fact, I thought of them as a major turn-on.

But not these tattoos.

These were gruesome images-pictures of torture and death. Awful Latin words I recognized, like _Sanguis Libido, Futuis, Cunnis._

Bloodlust.

Fucker.

Cunt.

I knew these words, because my father used to swear in Latin.

And I did nothing to hide my revulsion.

The next time he circled around me, I caught sight of something perhaps even more awful. On his left hip, a very descriptive tattoo had been inked.

A tattoo of a nude woman being raped from behind.

The rapist was laughing.

_You sick fuck._

I managed to keep my first remark in, finding another stream of words coming from my mouth instead, "Is that what you're going to do to me?"

And I pointed to it.

With a vicious grin, he murmured, "Eager, are we?"

My hands clenched into fists as he approached. He splayed his hand out flat on my abdomen, and then slowly slid it up toward my ribs, seeking my breasts once again.

"Not tonight," he whispered, breath scalding my cheek. "Tonight I'm just going to screw with you..." and he sneered at me.

He pinched my nipples hard then, forcing them to respond and receiving a yelp out of me.

"You're mine, my love," he said.

"Don't call me that," I managed to whimper.

"I can call you whatever I like, kitten." Alastor grinned, squeezing my breasts again.

I hated it.

It didn't feel loving.

It didn't feel pleasurable.

Hell, this might sound strange, but it didn't even feel like he appreciated them at all-they were just toys to him.

_I_ was just a toy to him.

"Remember the rules, kitten," he whispered in my ear before pulling his shirt back on and, moments later, the jacket. "Don't think I won't notice if you've been with another man-I'll smell it on you."

I couldn't even bring myself to wrinkle my nose at the comment. I was too ashamed-felt too violated, curled up naked in the far corner.

"And if I do...I'll punish you-and then I'll_ kill_ him." His smile contradicted every word he spoke.

A little whimper left my throat, and the movement made the area between my legs sting. His large, long fingers had plunged much too deep to resemble anything near pleasure.

I just felt used.

Used and horrified.

Oh, and pissed. Don't forget pissed. Pissed at this monster before me. Pissed at my father for giving me to him. Pissed at myself for not having more of a spine.

And, hell, maybe even a small part of me was pissed at Jack-for failing to come to my rescue. But, how could he've known? How could I _possibly _blame him for any of this?

The only benefit that had come from this whole ordeal of "screwing with me" had been that I'd had time to formulate a plan.

One that only _might _work, but for now, that was enough for me.

"Until tomorrow, my love," he breathed, and then at last, in a cloud of darkness, he was gone from the little hollow I could no longer call my home.

"Don't call me that..." I whispered brokenly after he disappeared, allowing just a few more tears to leak down my face before forcing myself into motion.

I got clumsily to my feet, swaying at first on unsteady legs and feeling the pain in my groin immediately.

The tatters of my clothes were strewn about the room, and try as I might, I could not salvage a single article for use.

So I dug in my drawers for a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt, throwing them on as quickly as possible-just to cover my exposed, enflamed body.

I yanked my backpack from the corner and dumped out the contents, sliding the binders and paper underneath my bed. In their place, I stuffed the articles from the emergency bag into it, being sure not to overstuff it so that it wouldn't look like a normal backpack.

The morning sun was already rising outside-and when I checked the time, I found it to be almost 7 o'clock.

School would start in an hour.

I dressed in the warmest clothes I owned, pocketing a knife in my black hoodie and crushing the small cellular device I had but never used...just in case it could track me somehow.

The whole plan was based on the fact that Alastor would be watching me, without a doubt.

I had to look as if it were just another day at school.

My walk from the hollow all the way to Black River High's front doors was filled with backward glances and nervous freeze-ups.

I was limping, too, from his rough handling.

I had to wait out the whole of first period, head down flat on the desk to look as if I was sleeping-which wouldn't be a shock to the teacher at all-when really my mind was buzzing with apprehension and worst-case scenarios.

God, what if I got Jack killed?

I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

The class bell startled me half to death, and I shot up from my seat almost too quickly.

Breathing deep and slow, I watched the other students flood the hallways, keeping to the side next to a water fountain.

The opportune moment would be when the halls were to their maximum capacity.

It felt like it took hours...but then it was there.

My moment.

With a final exhale, I whirled around and pulled the fire alarm.

All the fluorescent lights shut off, replaced by bright red emergency blinkers, and the high pitched siren sounded over the intercom.

Confused, the students began to make a mad dash for the exits, and I buried myself in the crowd.

If Alastor was tracking me, he wouldn't be able to see me in this mess.

As soon as we made it to the football field, I took off from the crowd, hopping the fence and bolting toward the forest that led out of Black River Michigan.

If anything, the fire alarm would just slow him down.

I hadn't really planned ahead from here...I just knew I had to get away for good-never return.

This could possibly mean never seeing Jack again, but I had to take that risk.

For both our sakes.

I sprinted through the woods, staring straight ahead at my steamy breath as it rose through the air with each pant.

I watched what little leaves remained die at my presence, wondering whether that would give me away.

And I didn't stop running until nightfall.

I swear, these woods never ended.

The moon shone high on the river the town was named after-and the water looked as cold as death. It rushed and roared past, causing me to hesitate.

How the hell was I going to cross?

I traveled the shoreline for at least an hour before I realized-I would have to cross on foot.

My first step into the icy water was unsteady and nervous, and the cold seeped into my skin relentlessly, freezing me to the core.

I moved slowly, so slowly, watching the waters to make sure they remained calm.

Oh, it was so sharp a cold...stabbing into my legs, and then piercing my waist with a vengeance.

I pulled my backpack tighter over my shoulders, flipping up my hood with trembling hands.

I had reached the point about a third of the way across.

And it was then that the water started to churn.

"_No..."_ I whispered. "Oh, god-please, no..."

It kicked up around my legs like fire, licking against me. I had to grip the rock beside me to keep my balance.

The wind blew through the surrounding pine trees with great force, and the current started to move with it, altogether sweeping me under at a moment's notice.

I was thrown against the rock, to begin with.

The impact shook through me-and I felt sure I'd just broken a rib.

Water roared up over me, cutting off my air and yanking me beneath the surface once more.

Oh, it was so _cold._

My limbs had already frozen up...it was impossible to swim. Every time I breached the surface, I would receive no chance to gather air, only crash under again.

It was like trying to swim through a tidal wave.

I was drowning.

I could feel it.

Choking sounds rumbled in my throat, my hands flailing above me.

Jack.

Jack.

_Jack._

I thought I must've hit my head...because what I saw next was anything but normal.

A bright blue light shone in the distance, beneath the surface as I was. It illuminated the dark with brilliant force.

I was being tossed around by the current, but ahead I saw stillness-a calm.

And then it hit me.

The surrounding water started to freeze, holding me in place beneath its depths.

I could not move.

I could not breathe.

But I could _see._

A pair of feet walked above me on the ice's surface. I was contorted into such an impossible position that it was hard to get a good look at their owner.

But then a shadow rose, and something crashed down, shaking the ice around me.

And all at once, it shattered.

Like a million, tiny snowflakes, freeing me.

I fell to the hard, rocky riverbed, which not moments ago had been filled with the rushing current, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

I was far too cold to move.

Footsteps rushed toward me, and something hollow dropped to the ground.

Next I knew, a pair of knees were straddling me, and hands were on my face.

_Alastor..._I thought. _He's found me._

But then my eyes were pried open, met with startling blue.

"Collis-_baby..." _he choked out, giving my shoulders a shake. "Oh, god. No, baby-stay with me."

Jack.

Jack had found me.

My heart seemed to melt with sudden ease, and I must've gone limp in his arms. He roared in protest.

"_NO!"_

His hand slapped hard against my cheek.

"DON'T. YOU. _DARE!"_

He pinched my nose closed, and I felt the side of his face lay against my chest-listening for my pulse.

Seconds later, his mouth was on mine, blowing useless air into my lungs.

"Come on!"

He pumped his hands against my breast at an even pace.

I tried everything to get my body to respond. My mind was completely coherent.

But he thought I was dead...

He tore down the zipper of my hoodie, ripping it away and splitting the shirt underneath with one hard tug.

Oh, god-

He was seeing me!

Naked!

And I could do nothing to stop it.

But then he was pulling his own sweatshirt over his head, tossing it carelessly away and lifting me from the ground.

He crushed our bodies together. Had the two of us been normal, this would've been a way to get heat back into me.

But Jack carried no heat...so what the hell was he doing?

Right about then, I felt it.

The cold was leeching out of my skin, into him.

He was sucking it out of me somehow-and drawing it into his own body.

I watched in horror as his skin went a rather unnatural shade of blue and purple.

He was panting and wheezing-and I knew this wasn't good for him. Whatever he was doing, it was insanely dangerous.

Jack!

_Jack!_

"_JACK!"_

Oh, thank god.

The word actually came out of my mouth-cracked and strangled sounding, but a sound nonetheless.

He froze, drawing me gently away from him and staring into my eyes.

"Baby..." he gasped, chest heaving with strain.

I blacked out.

**Chapter 13: Frozen Luxuries**

**Alright-I went kind of Jack-crazy and had to write this tonight. :) Hope you guys enjoy it! This one's for you. Listen to:**

**Never Be Another - Delilah (Again, you HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS ONE! IT'S SO SEXY!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**Frozen Luxuries**_

When I woke up, it was to a soft and gentle light.

My eyelids were heavy, feeling swollen from so long a sleep, and an unmistakeable chill still rippled through my body from the cold.

My fingers brushed over my hips, touching a thin, satin robe that covered my nudity. I lifted my hands slowly to my face, pressing against my cheeks and feeling the light warmth.

I was alive.

A shuddering sigh fell from my lips, passing over me as the ease seeped into my veins.

And then I realized...

Jack was here.

Jack had saved me.

My heart started to beat faster, and I slowly sat up, trying to place the source of the light.

It was a small table lamp, sitting on a cherrywood nightstand. My eyes fell on the room around me, bathed in its calm gold.

It was a hotel room.

A suite, by the looks of it.

The carpet was probably soft to the touch, a vanilla color with a spotless clean. Silk curtains hung in the windows, overlooking the rainbow lights of a city below. Beautiful chaise lounges lined the room, with decorative pillows I was afraid to even look at, for fear I would damage them.

And the bed...

The king-size wonder in the center of the room was what I was currently draped upon, and it was covered in gold and white sheets, cloud-like pillows resting against my back.

This was a heaven, if I ever did see one.

But one thing was certainly missing.

Jack.

I slowly slid off the side of the bed and got to my feet.

The carpet _was _soft, and my bare soles sank into it deeply as I strode across the room toward what I assumed was a bathroom.

It was-if you considered a castle a bathroom.

A Jacuzzi the size of the bed was built into the middle of an elaborately tiled floor, already filled with warm water and frothy bubbles. Lit candles lined its circumference, giving the room a sensual glow.

My heart sped up even more...

I glanced at the large mirror, framed in gold, and saw my reflection.

My lips were still a little blue from the river, but I looked otherwise healthy. My skin was clear, my eyes rested, and my hair was brushed gently down over my shoulder.

The bathrobe covered my figure lamely, and one could see both of my nipples clearly through the fabric.

But maybe that was just because I was stimulated...by the idea of taking a bath.

By the idea of taking a bath, and not taking it alone...

God, why was I thinking this way? I'd just nearly died! And Jack had risked his life for me! Screw my dirty thoughts!

Oh, but the idea was so tempting...

I groaned aloud, moving toward the marble tub and glancing quickly around me.

Jack was nowhere to be found.

So I slipped the robe off my shoulders, baring myself to the candlelight, and waded slowly into the water's marvelous warmth.

The knotted nerves in my back instantly loosened as I sank lower, the foam gathering around my breasts and then flooding up over my collarbone.

I rested my head back against the rolled towel on the tub's rim and sighed deeply.

But, man...did Jack know how to treat a girl right...

Especially after a near-death experience.

I had to keep reminding myself that that had just happened. That this wasn't just a beautiful coincidence.

But it was difficult.

Everything was just too perfect.

I think I fell back asleep there-encased in warmth-because next I knew Jack's tall, lean form was leaning against the doorway...watching me.

I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously and whispered a meek, broken, "Hi."

He said nothing for a long while-just stood there.

Then, finally, he breathed a low, weary, "Hi," in return.

Another long silence passed between us, and I felt my cheeks flood with color when his eyes dipped to the line of my breasts, covered only by my thin hands.

He shifted uncomfortably and turned away.

"Wait," I said, and he stiffened as he heard the water swish around me. I quickly lifted myself out of the tub while his back was to me and snatched up that same, satin robe.

It clung helplessly to my wet skin, but it was the best I could do.

I needed to talk to him.

"Okay," I murmured, and he slowly looked over his shoulder to check before facing me fully. I had my arms folded over my chest just in case.

"I know what you're going to say," I forced out, my voice quiet.

"Do you?" he cocked a brow at me.

"I just-"

He cut me off in a rush, "Collis, do you have _any _idea what I just went through? I mean, can you even _fathom _what seeing you like that did? What-" he tripped over his words, "what the hell were you thinking? Crossing the river like that?"

I directed my gaze to the floor in shame, and he hesitated.

"I...I needed to get away..." I whispered, and my words were barely audible.

"Right then? Like _that?" _he demanded. "You nearly drowned! And even afterward, there was a high chance you could freeze to death!"

"I know," I said, voice hushed.

"Baby, _my god-_what are you trying to do to me?" he gasped out, slapping a hand over his forehead in distress.

"I'm sorry, Jack..."

He opened his mouth to retort and then snapped it shut.

"I'm sorry," I repeated softly. "I...I didn't mean to...slip..."

A gentle breath whistled from his lips...and after a long moment, he stepped toward me. His scent flooded my nostrils-a delicate mint and pine.

It was an aroma I had missed for some time-all those days with Alastor-in the gym during the dodgeball game...in the alley behind the cafe.

And just like that, I had it confirmed.

It was not Jack I had been kissing two days ago.

It was Alastor.

Oh, god...the horror of it threatened to choke me, and all at once, I rushed forward and threw my arms around Jack's shoulders.

He paused, holding still with surprise...and then he melted against me, taking me in his cool arms and squeezing tight.

It was a depressing thought-that all we'd ever had was one meager kiss.

Well, I suppose it wasn't _meager_ at all. But still, it had only been one.

I suddenly remembered something from that day, and adjusted myself to whisper in his ear, "What did you mean?"

"Hmm?" he hummed against my neck. I pulled away to look him in the eyes.

"What you said in the bathroom...what did you mean? _From day one_?"

Remembrance flashed across his face, and his eyes instantly went to my lips. The temperature of the room seemed to skyrocket, and my fingers fumbled over the hem of the robe.

Accidentally, I slid it up a bit, revealing some of my thigh.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

"I..." he breathed, and his head lowered toward mine a fraction. My mouth ran dry.

_Oh, please..._

"I meant..." another few inches...

_Please. Please. Please._

He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

"Shit," he hissed, and then his lips crashed against mine.

I gasped into his mouth, arms tightening constrictively around his neck, and moaned loudly when he forced his tongue through.

He angled his head to the side immediately for better access, and his hands altogether skipped my waist, going straight for the wet backs of my bare thighs. Lifting me up swiftly, he whirled us around and then slammed me back against the wall.

_Oh, god yes!_

This was how I wanted it. The slowness of Alastor's touch was disturbing, and one could only wonder what he was contemplating behind those dark eyes.

But Jack was rough, craving, _shameless. _He wanted and he took, leaving no room for outward thought.

I needed this touch, because it was what was going on in my head-all these jumbled up, fiery ideas.

Jack only made them burn brighter.

We panted against each other as he sucked my upper lip, teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh. Once again, my hands went for his sweatshirt, but this time I was able to get my hands all the way underneath it-able to feel the smooth, muscular contours of his torso-before we were interrupted.

The room's phone rang loudly, jarring in our ears.

Jack growled, seemingly having to yank himself away from me in order to stop.

A long string of expletives shot from his mouth, but the word I heard most was 'fuck.'

He started to leave the room, then turned quickly to me and snapped, _"Don't. Move."_

I stood frozen, robe askew, plastered against the wall for several seconds before giving him a breathless nod.

_Oh, no...I'm not going anywhere._

**Chapter 14: Frozen Heat**

**Wow-my first morning update. I'm impressed with myself :) Listen to:**

**The Worst of Them - Issues (I REALLY love this song (: )**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_**Frozen Heat**_

Earnestly, I tried to calm my beating heart, pulsing like a runaway locomotive through my chest. I could hear Jack's low voice, speaking in a hushed tone on the other side of the wall-and that didn't help. Not one bit.

I caught another glimpse of my reflection in the massive mirror, and saw how flushed I looked, hair mussed up around my head, skin a deep shade of red. My robe was twisted and riding provocatively up my thigh.

I decided to leave it that way.

The conversation on the phone ended-I wondered whether it was a Guardian he'd been speaking to-and I heard him click the receiver back into place.

He seemed to hesitate in the other room.

And I was far too impatient.

Gathering my strength with one deep, shuddering breath, I turned the corner and exited the bathroom, moving to lean back against one of the living room's walls.

His back was to me, and I could only imagine the strong shoulders...the toned blades that stretched out like wings beneath his flesh. Oh, it made me hunger for it just looking at him.

A sigh rushed out of me, and he stiffened but did not turn.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was debating with himself. And all I could think was,

_Oh, god-please. Don't have a mental war __now!_

Then his head moved to the side, giving me a perfect profile of his angular face, his long lashes, and my insides started to boil for him.

But I decided he wasn't going to make the first move. Not this time.

Slowly, I approached, and he further stiffened with every step I took. I didn't let it faze me-_couldn't._

When I was just inches behind him, I allowed my hands to wander, placing them gently on the shoulder blades I was fantasizing about.

He encouraged me the only way he seemed able to: by leaning back, leaning into my touch.

I splayed my hands out over his back, sweeping them down the sweatshirt's annoying fabric and then around his waist.

Lifting up on tiptoe, I began to whisper in his ear. At the first word, he shivered.

That's right.

Jack Frost _shivered._

"I don't care...what reservations you think I might have. _I don't. _Nothing you can say or do will make me hesitate."

He pressed harder against me.

"If you are having doubts...let me just say..." and I moved to the other ear, lashing my tongue out across the back of his lobe,_ "you started it."_

A quiet, husky moan coursed threw him.

But I dropped my hands away, "So finish it."

In a breath, he had whirled around, eyes burning with a need I had never seen before. It was a look that made me forget all of my fears over Alastor-all of the violation I'd just gone through.

It was a look that made me _crave._

His eyes fell once more to my breasts, and I could just feel my nipples straining against the satin. The robe didn't matter. I might as well have been naked for all the good it did.

I closed my eyes, soaking in his wanton gaze...until I felt his cold thumb brush over the swell of my breast.

They flew back open, zeroing in on his icy stare.

"Why..." he whispered, and his voice grated against my ears-I could feel it rumble through every part of my body. It made me want to groan.

"...are you acting as if _I'm_ teasing _you?"_

My brows furrowed in confusion, but I had no time to think on it. His thumb slipped down to massage my nipple through the robe, wrenching a small sound from my lips. With his other hand, he gripped my waist roughly and walked me back against the wall.

His lips found my neck instantly, and he suckled and bit and kissed for several seconds before reaching my ear to breathe, "You think I don't want to be buried inside of you right now? That I don't want to hear you scream my name-over and over and _over _again..."

I gasped.

I had never heard him speak in such a way.

My groin began to throb, and I was forced to squeeze my thighs together. I felt his strong erection, pressing against my stomach, and it made me shut my eyes tightly once more.

"What's-what's stopping you?" I panted.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew this was too soon. I had to remind myself _again _that that whole fiasco in the alley behind the cafe had not happened between us. We had almost nothing beneath the belt of our relationship.

Just one kiss in a high school bathroom.

But another part of my brain reminded me what Jack said.

That I was going to die if I didn't-what was it again? Get some help? That the sadness and pain of my life was deadly...

_Jack, _I thought. _Jack is happiness..._

Would he save me?_ Could_ he? Simply by being here-with me?

He shifted in front of me, pressing his hands flat against the wall on either side of my head, and I opened my eyes again.

His gaze was unfaltering-unapologetic, piercing through my mind like an X-ray.

"I can't," he whispered-and I literally felt my shoulders slump, crushed with disappointment.

"Can't _what?"_ My voice was weak, my knees wobbling.

"I can't make love to you..." he sighed, wrenching himself away from me and turning around, folding his hands behind his head.

It took me several seconds to get my breath back, "W-Why not?"

"You aren't ready." Massaging his temples, he headed toward the hotel room door.

I imagine an expression of anger crossed my face, "How do_ you_ know?"

He turned back to me, gripping the knob, "Trust me, I know. Maybe someday, Collis...but not today." And he opened the door, "Don't leave the room, alright? Promise me that much..."

Next I knew, he was gone.

The room drained of the sexual warmth we'd created, flooding with emptiness instead.

Just like that.

_Just._

_Like._

_That._

He'd rejected me.

**Chapter 15: Frozen Promise**

**Ahh! Sorry for the wait! Busy week here. But I'm back. Never fear :) Listen to:**

**Should've Known Better - Sick Puppies (Great song!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_**Frozen Promise**_

_You aren't ready..._

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Bastard! Leading me on like that...

I clutched my robe tighter around myself, searching fruitlessly for something to put on. All of a sudden, I felt too revealed-but perhaps that was only because I no longer felt wanted.

_Don't leave the room._

Go fuck yourself, Jack.

I dug into the dressers of the hotel room, scouring the closet until I at last found my soaking clothes hanging. Jack had ripped my shirt, but the hoodie was still intact.

I yanked on my frozen jeans and slipped the hoodie over my naked torso, shivering.

Don't leave the room, my ass.

A small part of my subconscious told me I was just bitter from his rejection. I ignored it.

Thank god he hadn't locked me in. Now the only hard part would be finding him.

I sprinted down the hotel hallway toward the elevator, slipping inside before the doors closed behind me. There was an old woman inside the car, toying with a necklace tied to her cane.

"Oh, darling..." she said, glancing up at me, "you look like death."

Appropriate wording, I thought.

I forced myself to shrug nonchalantly, "Got a little wet."

She laughed, "I know what you're talking about. Those showers are hazardous."

I smiled, but there was something in the way she said _about. _Her accent-Canadian?

Jack had taken me to Canada?

Of course...we were in Ontario. The skyline was so distinguishable-so unique. I wondered how I'd missed it before.

"Don't fret now, darling," the woman continued. "You're a very pretty girl. I can see that."

I nodded my thanks, greeting the ding of the elevator with a relieved sigh. Making conversation was never one of my skills.

Hopping out, I crossed the lobby in large strides, searching back and forth for the shock of white hair.

He wasn't anywhere near the concierge, or the valet, for that matter. I'm not sure what part of me even expected him to still be in the hotel, considering the speed he could move at.

But I checked the bar anyway, peeking my head around a mahogany pillar.

"Are you over 19?" the bartender immediately demanded.

I took a step back, "No...just looking for a friend."

"Is your friend over 19?"

I started to say yes, but then realized...Jack looked no older than 18. "No."

"Then you won't find them here." It was a clear dismissal. I could tell without further words the guy had a stick up his ass.

I left the hotel in a huff, still wondering what I planned to say to Jack when I found him.

Somehow, _why won't you sleep with me? _just didn't quite seem to cut it. Maybe I'd ask him what he really wanted from me.

A relationship? Or just a friendship?

Oh, but that sounded so cliche. Like those stupid romance novels. Our connection was nothing like that. It was darker-harder.

With a roll of my eyes, I decided I'd just wing it. Who knows? Some people say improvising is the best way to get your point across.

The Ontario streets were busy, despite the late hour, with cars. I wasn't used to such a large crowd, and it was fairly daunting at first.

Black River was a small, _small_ town.

I passed several shop windows and couldn't help but stare. The sorts of things they had on display were breathtaking.

Mind you, I was never much of a frilly girl-but the diamonds in these cases were magnificent.

Tearing my eyes away, I turned to find my path blocked.

By that old woman from the elevator.

Jesus, she moved fast.

"Do you like diamonds, darling?" she asked me.

"Uh...sure. I suppose. Weren't you just-"

"Me too. You know what else I like?" she encouraged with a bright smile.

I stared at her confusedly, "What?"

She beckoned me close with a finger, and after a moment's hesitation, I bent down to hear it.

The word _loyalty_ was whispered...but not by a woman's voice. I jerked away, recognizing Alastor's drawl instantaneously.

It was him.

I saw the quick transformation from the old woman into himself.

Oh, god-I was going to be sick.

He towered over me once more, his mass casting a dark shadow on the shop window.

Could I scream for help? No-what if they couldn't even see him? They'd think me mad.

Besides that, a gang of human boys probably had nothing on this demon. At best, they'd all be killed.

Alastor's arms constricted me, turning me to face the shop and pressing me against him much too tight. "You look like you've been through a lot, kitten. What's wrong?"

I struggled..._hopelessly_, but I struggled.

"Shh..." he cooed, laughter in his voice as he restrained me. "Don't want to frighten anybody, do you?"

His hands slipped down my waist, massaging bruises into the flesh. I squirmed, releasing a small squeal.

But no one noticed.

No one even looked up.

_He's going to...punish me,_ I realized. The horror pulsed through me like a tidal wave.

Except...I saw something.

A small design forming on the window in front of me. What was it?

A tendril.

A tendril of_ ice._

I choked back a relieved sigh, my breathing coming heavier as I watched the ice crawl over the glass.

Jack. Oh, thank god..._Jack._

I felt the cold creep up my legs and welcomed it, glancing to my left and looking for him. He wasn't there.

But then I saw his reflection through the glass.

Right behind us.

He was taller than Alastor-by at least a few inches. And the expression on his face made him all the more menacing.

With a jerk of his hand, Alastor released me, gripping his arm in silent pain.

Jack had frozen it.

Alastor glanced his way, and I was surprised to see him laugh, "Next time, then."

Seconds later, before Jack could even advance on him, he'd vanished.

Jack unclenched his fist, chest heaving with furious breaths, and turned his glacial eyes on me.

Jaw tense, he ground out, "I told you-"

With a whimper, I choked out, "I know," and ran to him, flinging my arms around his neck. I didn't care. All the doubt, all the upset I'd felt at his rejection-it didn't matter. All I wanted was to immerse myself in his wonderful,_ safe_ scent. His arms.

He was stiff for a moment, in anger I supposed, but then he relaxed.

"I'll tell you everything," I whispered into his sweatshirt. "I promise."

**Chapter 16: Frozen Admission**

**A BIG shout-out to all of you wonderful fans! You're what keeps me going! Thanks for the awesome, kind reviews :) I read them all! Listen to:**

**Back into the Rain - It's Alive**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_**Frozen Admission**_

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

I gripped him tighter round the neck, nestling my face into his chest as if it were the only safe place on this Earth. I felt a rushing motion in my gut, felt the wind whipping past us.

He was flying...and briefly, I wondered whether people could see me.

No.

No, then there would be gasps and screams.

I heard nothing but a calm silence surrounding, and then a gust of inviting warmth graced my skin. We must've been back at the hotel.

Jack released me almost as suddenly as I had embraced him. He took several steps back, a hard expression on his face.

He was still angry. _Very_ angry.

"Explain," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

I opened my mouth, but then he stopped me, waving his hand in the air.

"Wait, wait-start with leaving the room. If I remember correctly, I told you not to leave."

Wincing at his tone, I answered, "I was looking for you."

"That's not an answer."

"I didn't like the way we left things...and you can't just order me around, Jack," I snapped, grateful that some of my old fervor was back.

He turned away from me, moving to the wide window that overlooked the Ontario night-all its rainbow lights. He braced his arms on the brass bar, hanging his head with a deep sigh and dropping his staff.

I fidgeted awkwardly where I stood, unsure where to start.

"This is a nice hotel."

Jack huffed.

"Really," I coaxed. "I like it."

"I don't care whether you like it, _Collis_," he bit out, and I flinched. "You're supposed to be giving me answers."

With a shaky exhale, I told him the truth, "I don't know where to start."

He didn't turn, "Start with who the _fuck_ had his hands all over you-"

"Jack," I almost reached for him, but stopped myself, "calm down. Alastor. His name is Alastor."

"_Who the hell is he?"_

I hesitated, swallowing hard, "He's a-he's a demon."

Jack tensed, gripping the bar so tightly his knuckles turned white. I could only imagine what his reaction would be to the contract.

Oh god...

"He...knew my father."

Shaking his head, Jack pushed off the bar, "Jesus. Should've known Pitch had something to do with this."

I grit my teeth, trying to remind myself that _I too_ hated my father.

Closing my eyes, I decided to just get it all out there. Fast. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"He sold me, Jack."

There was a long pause...and then he whirled around.

"Sold? What do you mean-_sold?"_

"To pay off a debt. He...gave me away. Gave me to Alastor. It's all in a contract."

That was when Jack threw the first thing. A vase. An expensive looking one, at that.

I jumped, backing up a step.

"What are you then?" he demanded. "A _slave?"_

I grimaced, saying in a meek voice, "Not exactly."

If possible, his eyes narrowed further. He moved forward, then seemed to notice he was scaring me and stopped. "What then?"

I gathered all my strength, knowing I was about to remember it-remember those horrible rules. But how could I forget?

I'd memorized them.

"_These are the conditions to be followed completely and willingly by Collis Carlin Black at the age of eighteen years..." _I recited.

Jack seemed to turn to stone.

And so the six rules flooded out of my mouth like a tsunami. I couldn't stop myself. He had to know.

He had to know everything.

When I finished the last sentence, I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him.

I had never seen a darker look in a man's eyes until this moment. Not even in my father's.

I wouldn't be surprised if his stare alone could massacre a thousand.

"Jack..." I breathed, my voice barely audible.

A roar like a raging animal ripped its way out of his throat, and one of the nice, marble tables went flying. Then some more glass. A clock.

"Jack!" I screamed.

He didn't hear me-or he didn't want to. He launched a chair at the far wall as if it were a pillow.

"_Jack! Stop it!" _I lunged forward, desperately flinging myself out in front of him and preventing him from throwing the next object.

He stared at me with wild, crazed eyes, panting and snarling. But he dropped what he was holding.

"Stop..." I breathed, gently splaying my hands out across his cold chest. It was almost frozen solid-as if the exertion had made him _colder._

"Did he..." he gasped out, "did he..."

"Yes," I murmured, "he's touched me."

Despite all the anger-all the rage on his face, I was shocked to see another look break the gates. Sorrow...guilt...almost...

_Heartbreak._

"No..." he said, and it was a moan._ "No, no, no..."_

"Jack-"

The anger was back as quickly as it'd gone. "I'll break his _fucking_ neck. I'll rip him to shreds, the goddamned cock-sucking son of a-"

I knotted my fingers in his hair and forced him down on me, our mouths meeting in something like a war clash, abruptly silencing his filthy words.

His hands latched onto my hips, so much harder and yet so much softer than Alastor's.

"Stop," I chanted between kisses, "stop, stop...shh..."

His lips grew more forceful on mine-all tongue, stinging like dry ice.

"I'm a-" I tried, but he bit down on my lower lip, making me shiver and quake. "I'm a-I'm a...oh _god._..I'm a virgin, Jack!" I finally managed.

He broke away from me, and it was like severing a magnetic pull. It felt almost painful-resisting all the way.

"What?" he breathed, eyeing me cautiously, _so cautiously_-as if these next words defined the universe. "What did you say?"

"I'm a virgin," I whispered, lifting my hands to stroke his hollow, masculine cheekbones.

An impossible mixture of shock and relief flooded his gaze, and he squeezed my sides possessively. "You mean...you mean he didn't-"

"No," I said softly. "He never got that far."

A shuddering sigh blasted against my face.

But I still felt the need to explain myself, "That's why-that's why I..."

"That's why you wanted me to make love to you..." he finished, voice deep and soft.

I nodded, feeling the color rush to my cheeks, and looked to the floor, "I still do...but," I added quickly, "but I know we hardly know each other. I understan-"

"Is that the only reason?" he demanded of me suddenly.

"What?"

"Is that sick fuck the only reason you want me to take you? So that he won't get you first?"

I tried to force myself to say yes, but I knew it would be a complete lie.

Instead my throat closed around it, and the truth escaped instead.

"No..." I whispered. "It's like you said._ From day one..."_

He didn't say another word.

**Okay...next two chapters = nothing but Jack/Collisy Goodness! Get ready... ;D**

**Chapter 17: Frozen Sensuality**

**Okay, WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT. Next chapter will be EXPLICIT, though. Listen to:**

**Undisclosed Desires - Muse (SERIOUSLY RECOMMEND)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Frozen Sensuality**_

I felt a throbbing in my groin-one I could barely contain.

She knew. She knew what I'd meant. _From day one._

A burning began in my chest, where it was usually so cold-such a hollowness. Could she possibly...

No.

No, no...all she wanted was...

_Fuck. It. All._

I wanted her. I wanted her so goddamn bad. I wanted to pin her up against the wall and drive into her until she begged me to stop. Until she couldn't take it anymore.

But I wouldn't do that to her. Not for her first time.

Jesus Christ, she was still a virgin. _Still a virgin._

She could still be mine.

What hit me even harder was the fact that she wanted to give this piece of herself to me._ Me_-the fucking King Cold. How many times had we fought one another? How many times had she screamed at me about her father.

I hadn't expected my little stunt in the school bathroom to change anything. I'd done that for me...because I had to know what she tasted like.

I hadn't expected her to _come after me._

My erection pressed painfully against the crotch of my jeans, yearning for her as I did.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck..._

My time for inner battle was up. I had to make a decision now or never.

And I'm fairly certain it was the look in her eyes that sold me. The look in her pleading, golden, cat-like eyes...

I was done for.

My hands threaded through her hair, twisting into the inky black curls. I didn't kiss her. Not yet.

No, instead I slowly backed her up, my feet pushing hers until she was flush with the large window. I titled her face to look at me, seeing the anticipation-the nerves.

"I'll never hurt you," I whispered, brushing my nose against hers. "No, never..." Turning her head to the side, I traced my lips along her jawline toward her ear._ "Never._..never..."

And then I took her earlobe into my mouth, and she moaned softly, pulling away from the glass to press more firmly against me.

I fisted my hands to keep control of myself, flicking my tongue over the skin and feeling-wait, what?

Was that..._metal?_

I backed away slightly, eyes falling on the metal rod running through the cartilage of her ear. How could I've missed it before? She had a helix piercing.

_Sex-yy, _with a capital S.E.X. It made me wonder what else was pierced...

Think I might've growled.

I leaned forward and took her ear into my mouth once more, running my tongue along the bar and savoring the scent of her. Spicy...like a mixture of Mexican food and citrus. Hot damn, but I wanted her _bad._

"You're blushing," I noted, feeling her burning cheek against my own. My voice was surprisingly calm.

"I-" she gasped out, "I don't usually get my ear licked..."

I laughed huskily against her skin, "Must be your lucky day, then."

Her reply was just a whimper.

Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I pulled her away from the window and took her hand.

"Where are we going?" she whispered as I led her toward the hall.

"Bedroom," I murmured, barely audible. But she must've heard because her breath caught.

I released her as soon as we were inside, turning swiftly to close the door. Whoever for, I wasn't sure-it just felt better to have it that way.

And I made a big deal of locking it, making sure her eyes were on me, so that she would know we weren't leaving this room until this was settled.

By settled, I mean the fire raging in my gut...

The same goddamned fire that was sending the blood rushing to my cock.

I restrained myself, forcing my back against the door and crossing my arms over my chest. Collis bit her lip-a movement so innocent that it made it all the more hypnotizing.

"Do you want this?" I breathed.

She swallowed hard, dragging my eyes to her throat for a moment before they shot back to her face.

"Do _you?" _she replied.

"I asked first." The words came out harsher than I'd planned, but it only seemed to put a determined look on her beautiful, flustered face.

"Yes," she said, adopting a confident stance. "Yes, I want this."

"You hardly know me."

_Why_ was I doing this, exactly? Fucking idiot...

"I still want this," was her answer. Then she added again, "But do you?"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply for a moment and listening to the blood roaring in my ears. I didn't even hear myself-but I knew what I said.

"More than I want to live."

My eyes snapped open when I felt her cold hand on my chest. That's right-_cold_. Like me. It was something I'd adored since the beginning.

"You're immortal, Jack," she reminded me in a soft voice, eyes hooded, staring at the floor again. What could she _possibly_ be so embarrassed about?

"Not yet."

It just came right out. And, dammit, it was the truth.

If she stayed with me...I would finally start to feel ageless. Up until this moment, I'd only felt trapped. Trapped in a boy's body, but growing wearier every day.

Not now.

Never again.

"Please, Jack..."

Shit. DId she...did she really just...

Shit.

Shit. Fuck. Double shit.

My control could go to hell.

I reached out swiftly and hooked my fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. They were still wet from the escapade at the river, but I pushed the thought from my head.

Yanking her close, our noses slid against one another, foreheads pressing together. She exhaled slowly and I sucked it in, holding her breath in my mouth for a moment.

And then I sighed, giving it back to her and watching a few flecks of ice dance across her face.

"Kiss me," she whispered, then shut her eyes and amended the statement. "Take me."

The words undulated through me like an earthquake, and I was sure she felt the shudder.

As per usual, the heightened emotion was causing snow to fall from my fingertips, and when I lifted my hands to the zipper of her jacket, she gasped, then groaned.

Oh, I was gonna blow my fucking load..._in my pants._ Like an _amateur!_

I dropped my hands, sliding them around to her rear instead and dragging her closer still. Bending my head, I took the zipper between my teeth and slowly drew it down, not stopping until it was undone, and I was on my knees before her.

Oh. Kill. Me. Now.

There was nothing beneath. _Nothing. _Not even one of those godforsaken bras!

I could see the bear strip of skin so clearly, running from the tantalizing valley between her still-hidden breasts to her navel.

It was then that the first possessive phrase came out of my mouth.

"He'll never have you," I said, and it was rough. A statement, not an option. "Not like this."

**Don't worry, I'M NOT DONE! I PROMISE :D :D :D WITH A CHERRY ON TOP! (And a piece of peppermint bark cause you're all extra special XD )**

**Chapter 18: Frozen Fantasies**

**Here it is! Finally! The love scene! And it's almost 3,000 words. Needless to say, you're welcome. Haha :D Listen to:**

**Love Is Found (Off the Live Album Bring Me Home, 2011) - Sade (YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST! I WROTE YOU THE SEX SCENE! NOW LISTEN TO GET IN THE RIGHT MOOD! IT IS WITHOUT A DOUBT ONE OF THE SEXIEST SONGS I'VE EVER HEARD! BUT IT HAS TO BE THE LIVE VERSION OFF THAT ALBUM! PLAY IT ON REPEAT UNTIL THE CHAPTER'S OVER! PLEEEAAAAASSSEEE!) Whoo...sorry about that. I get a little impassioned sometimes.**

**WARNING: **_**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT.**_

**Enjoy :) (Seriously...)**

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

_**Frozen Fantasies**_

A shallow breath left me.

My god, this was really it. It was happening.

Jack was going to make love to me.

As a fantasy, it made me quiver with desire...but as a reality-

I might've just died.

And now the sight of him, on his knees in front of me, my jacket undone and just begging to be torn off...

Oh, _god..._

"He'll never have you," Jack whispered gruffly, breath teasing my abdomen. "Not like this."

I was tingling all over.

My fingers threaded through his ivory hair of their own accord, tangling in the soft strands. Staring up at me, unblinking, he leaned in and swept that devilish tongue around my navel, causing my hips to buck suddenly.

And then his hands slid under my parted hoodie, tracing my hipbones.

_Dammit!_ He was doing this on purpose. Making me wait.

I wanted to stamp my foot childishly and pout-but this was hardly the time. No, I let him have his fun because I was enjoying it too much.

His thumbs pressed a little harder on my waist, beginning to massage in slow, inviting circular motions.

And I abruptly decided he was going to do nothing without a little direction.

So I helped him.

Placing my hands on top of his, I guided them swiftly up my ribcage until they hit the target.

His eyes flashed in shock, then darkened with something else...and as his lids fluttered down, he brushed his fingers over the swells of my breasts.

I gave a little mew of delight, leaning into him, but just as he began to squeeze, he felt something...and stopped.

I wanted to scream at him.

He slowly got to his feet, eyebrow quirked at me as if daring it to be true. And then his icy hands slid up my collarbone and swept the jacket off my shoulders.

It pooled around my ankles on the floor.

Gaze burning my skin, he took in the sight of me with wide, inflamed eyes, breath hitching in his throat.

And then he rolled my nipple ring between his fingers.

"Fuck," he breathed, so quietly I didn't know if he meant me to hear. "You are_ killing _me."

For the millionth time tonight, a dark flush colored my face. This was the first time I didn't feel ashamed of getting that piercing. I'd gotten it out of anger, when my mother had forced me to go to Michigan.

No, now I didn't regret it _at all._

His arms wrapped around my bare back, sending goose flesh riding up my skin with their cold. And then he dipped me, languidly, so that my head hung back and the room turned upside down.

For all I knew, the _world_ could've been upside down at this moment and I wouldn't have cared.

His frosted lips skated down my neck with practiced ease, eliciting another moan from me, and then he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Seconds later, he set his tongue loose again.

I gasped, clutching his shoulders for dear life when he pulled my pierced nipple into his mouth and suckled.

"Jack..." I whined.

He bit down, causing me to jerk in his arms, hot jets of pleasure shooting through me.

"_Jack!"_

"I know," he panted, and then I was lifted off the ground, cradled against his capable chest, legs twisted around his torso.

He carried me to the bed like a feather, never taking so much as a hand off of me to turn down the sheets. When we collapsed on the soft mattress, he sat up, kneeling between my legs and reaching up over his head for the hood of his sweatshirt.

I sighed with relief.

I'd get to see him in full this time.

Having only seen him shirtless once before, and even then being only semiconscious, I was beginning to feel extremely deprived.

The sweatshirt hit the floor...and I felt sure a dark smile spread across my face.

Though pale, he was not thin, as he had looked. No, a wide, smooth expanse of lean muscle was presented before me, and on his arms, a sexy scattering of faint sinew. There was something strange about his skin...but I couldn't pin it. His biceps were rounded, chest large and his shoulders were as broad as I'd hoped.

Oh, it made me want to run my tongue all over him.

I wondered what was stopping me.

Reaching up, I glided my hand across his pectorals, watching as his own hand came to rest on top. He pressed my palm harder into his skin, closing his eyes and seeming to relish in the feeling.

Encouraged, I sat up with him and brought my mouth down on his chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and I circled my arms around his neck as I continued, making my way down to his abs.

And they were something, let me tell you...

When next I lifted my head, his eyes were open again-and lit aflame. He bore a hunger there that was nothing short of ravenous...like he might devour me.

I was begging that he would.

Soft and gentle Jack was gone, replaced by some sort of leopard that crouched before me on the bed, poised to strike.

Without even a breath's preparation, he'd slammed into me, pummeling us back into the headboard and pinning my arms above me. I was too aroused to feel the pain.

His lips were everywhere-biting my neck, licking my jaw, nibbling my breasts. He moved like a sensually flickering flame...and yet, every touch was ice.

Before I'd caught up to him, he'd wrenched my thighs apart with demanding hands and dug the heel of his palm into me.

A shriek was swallowed up in my throat. I writhed against him with abandon.

All this, and we were still wearing pants. Jesus Fucking Christ.

"Jack-Jack-oh, shit-_please..." _I was practically hyperventilating.

"You like that?" he demanded-a growl in my ear.

"_Fuck,_ yes!"

Jack tore his hand away, replacing it in the blink of eye with his barely contained erection. He ground against me mercilessly, the friction of our jeans delightful-but still not _enough..._

"Oh, god! _Now_-Jack, it's gotta be now!"

"Slow and steady-"

"Never won a fucking thing!" I cut him off. The nerve! "Jesus-it's called a race for a goddamn reason!"

He stopped moving against me-and the loss was almost painful. When I looked up, I caught his eyes-and the softness was back.

Damn.

"I don't want..." he whispered, "I don't want to rush this."

With a small, breathless laugh, I pressed my forehead to his, "Then don't. By all means, take your own sweet time...as soon as this-" I rested my hand tentatively on his groin and he tensed almost convulsively, "is inside me."

There was a long silence, filled only by our unblinking stare, and then another long string of curses left his mouth.

He cupped my hand in his, squeezing it tighter around his denim-covered cock and grinding out, _"Harder."_

So I threw my arm back around his shoulders and tightened my hand on him into a fist.

A load groan rumbled out of his throat, shortly muffled when he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

"_Come to me," _he whispered, and I could only ponder his meaning for a nanosecond before his hands found the fasten of my jeans and tore it apart.

My pants were there for a moment, then gone the next, leaving me in...nothing.

Fuck, I'd been in such a rush to go after him, I hadn't bothered to find underclothes. An embarrassed flush flooded my cheeks.

"Fucking gorgeous..." Jack breathed.

My blush deepened-but this time, from pleasure.

He liked the way I looked? Well, that was all that mattered in the world anymore...

His fingers brushed over me..._right there..._and this time I whimpered aloud.

"I'm losing control..." he warned.

But I was delirious now.

_I'm not used to this._

"What do you want from me?" he gasped out.

_I'm not used to this._

I grabbed his cock as tightly as possible, maybe even a little painfully-but he only made a sound of lust.

"Get these off-" I commanded of his old, brown jeans. _"Now."_

He broke away from me like a magnet pulling away from its conductor and wrenched off the ancient rags like tissue paper, tearing away his briefs next.

_Holy. Fuck._

He was enormous.

I'd seen Alastor's hard-on through his pants. It was nothing like this.

Jack's erection jutted out like a marble tree branch, at least-ah, hell-nine or ten inches long. How could it possibly_ fit?!_

It was thick, too, and darkened with blood, the veins crawling up the sides protruding visibly.

Despite it being the first time I'd ever seen a man's cock, I didn't hesitate.

I gripped it bare, wrapping my hand around the delicious hardness.

Jack growled like an animal, rocking toward me-pumping himself through the ring of my fingers. I gave a tug, dragging the skin tantalizingly and enjoying the view.

He was squirming. For _me._

Jack seemed to cuss whenever things got intense. He was like a skipping record, looping all the known dirty words and nothing else.

Well, nothing else except, "Are you ready? _Fuck_-I hope you're ready."

Molten desire gushed through my veins...and I nodded furiously.

"Spread your legs, baby," he said softly, eyes still squeezed shut from my ministrations.

Trembling, I parted my knees, welcoming him between my thighs but going uncontrollably tense with nerves.

"Relax," he whispered in my ear, his breath a chill. "I'll go slow."

I swallowed hard, allowing my limbs to slowly turn to lava. It wasn't hard...not with him murmuring things like, _So bad, baby. I've wanted you so bad. You're beautiful. God, you're beautiful._

A slow, shuddering exhale blew from my lips as he laid me back on the pillows. He caressed the side of my ribs with his nose, nestling his face against my breasts for a moment, and then he settled his hands on my thighs, spreading them even wider.

He gazed at me, unfaltering, the aqua of his eyes seeming to bleed into mine. And then he said, "Deep breath, baby...this is going to hurt a little bit."

I almost scoffed. Alastor had hurt me enough with his fingers that I couldn't imagine how Jack could do much damage.

Regardless, the thought worried me, and the words tumbled out.

"Distract me."

Jack's brow furrowed, "What?"

"Distract me," I repeated, still breathless. A knowing look spread across his face, and without further delay, he lunged forward, claiming my lips in a searing,_ bruising_ kiss.

He splayed my arms out at my sides, tangling his fingers with my own. "Squeeze until it stops hurting," he told me.

And then his hips pushed forward...and he entered me.

My first cry was one of pain, I'll admit. A shrill one he eventually muffled with another kiss. And I could almost taste the silent apology in it.

I clutched his hands in a death grip, no doubt squeezing all the blood out of them.

God, I'd never expected it to hurt so much.

For at least a minute, the burning was all I could think about. But then...there was...

_Oh._

_What. Was. That..._

A pulsing started in my groin...a throbbing I'd never felt before. And it was anything but painful.

It was fulfillment.

The shock of the sensation made me squeeze harder, and Jack gasped, "Shit-I knew it." To my horror, he started to pull out of me. "I'm too-"

I tore my hands out of his and yanked him to me, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

"I feel it!" I spluttered desperately. _"I feel it..."_

Wide eyed, he stared down at me, propping himself up with his arms. The movement caused him to slide back inside of me a little further.

I gave a languid moan, arching my back and reaching out one hand to clutch at the sheets, the other still secure around his shoulders.

For a long while, he stayed still, as if unsure. Hesitant.

So he needed a little more encouragement?

I could handle that.

The Guardians had a secret language...one I only knew a few phrases from. I'm not sure what the tongue was called, but I remembered a single word at this moment, and I strained upward to whisper it in his ear.

"_Aloidia."_

Lover.

Jack gave a great shudder, all the breath leaving him in one great swathe, and his arms faltered, causing him to collapse over my body.

His weight on me was divine...

But gone the next instant when he picked himself back up, and with a dark, guttural sound, rocked forward and filled me in one powerful thrust.

I cried out, pleasure exploding within me like a storm of grenades.

He pulled out swiftly-and did it again.

Another scream.

And again...

Everything became a blur.

A blur of passion. Of desire and poorly hidden emotions and pent up longing and-_fuck. _Yes, yes...more. Back and forth, back and forth._ Oh..._yes. Hell yes. _Harder. Faster. _Good and buried. Oh, god! Back and forth. Again. _Again. _More. Take me up and over. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, there. _Right there. _Ah! Him-me. Us. Yes, _yes...more. _Don't stop. Never stop. Drive me. _Deeper_. Back and forth...back and forth. Harder. Stronger. Pain. Pleasure. Give me all of it. I want you. I want this. _Ohh...faster._ Harder. Take me. All of me.

"Ohhh..._Jack!" _I cried in ecstasy. "Oh, _god!"_

He made a deep, strangled noise into my hair, head buried in the pillow.

Our peaks were building. Simultaneously.

Together.

This heat was like a time bomb-and I witnessed Jack's pleasure in a way I never thought I would.

Hands clenched into fists, he grit his teeth and shot back up to a power position, pounding into me more fervently than ever.

I gasped and writhed, never wanting this to end. This building, wondrous sensation...

And then I saw it.

A snowflake...falling slowly...and landing on the tip of my nose, shiny with sweat like the rest of my body.

How could I have missed it?

One look around and I saw the storm raging inside the hotel room.

It was a blizzard. The pictures were frozen to the walls, icicles dangling from the frames. Impossible winds wracked the curtains. Rain and snow and cold pelted us.

_Oh..._

This was ecstasy.

This was watching a master at his best.

And he probably didn't even know he was doing it.

In a fit of passion, he panted, "I need to-you need to see-" and then said no more. Instead he snatched up my hand, and with bated breath, licked across my palm.

These were the true erotics.

Taking the same hand, he flattened my now-moist palm against his left shoulder and then dragged it down his chest.

And I saw what had been strange about his skin earlier.

It was covered in some sort of make up.

Covering a tattoo.

It was glowing-blue like the frosted land surrounding what had once been a hotel room. The ink glittered on his skin like an enchantment.

And I wondered why in god's name he would ever cover up a thing so beautiful.

It was nothing like Alastor's tattoos. It was an abstract design.

Something private.

A secret known only to Jack.

And he'd shown it to me.

That was the last straw.

Fingers digging into his scalp, I rose off the bed and let the full rapture take me with a wild scream.

A wave crashed down over my senses-and as I rode out the tide, I heard Jack's tortured groan into my shoulder.

His whole body tensed, and I felt an alarming hot-cold moisture fill me.

It was done.

It was done...and as Jack lay over me, panting-so close, yet never close enough-I had it confirmed.

I was in love with him.

**Gosh, I hope I lived up to you guys' expectations. I tried really hard on this one :) Just a FYI, the song that I recommended for this chapter, (Listed Above) has been officially named by me as Collis and Jack's theme. I just think of them every time I hear it. Hope you do to :D Love to all (XOXOXOXOXO)**

**-Dawn**

**Chapter 19: Frozen Release**

**Alright, I lied. I'm not quite done with my love fest ;) WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. Listen to:**

**Let Go - A Static Lullaby (SO GOOD SO GOOD SO GOOD!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

_**Frozen Release**_

Jack felt me shiver.

He must have because his cold left me for a moment and he propped himself up above my blissfully limp body.

I could see from the shock in his eyes, he'd finally noticed the icicles dangling off the bed...the frost surrounding the pillows.

"Fuck," he breathed, face flooding with concern and anger, "you're frozen."

I smiled a lazy smile, despite my chattering teeth, and reached for him, "I can't even feel it-"

"God dammit!"

The rage in his eyes frightened me, and startled, I jerked my arms away. "Jack...it's all right."

With an exasperated sound, his head sunk back down to my chest and he continued to chant, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Jack," I sighed, stroking my fingers through his hair, "I'm fine. I promise."

"Isn't there _one fucking thing_ I can do right?" he grumbled.

I gave an incredulous laugh, hardly believing what he'd just said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He didn't respond.

"_Jack-"_ I forced him to look at me by pulling his hair. His stare challenged me to contradict him, doubting that I could.

Another, more mischievous, smile tugged at the corner of my lips, "You don't call _this," _and I undulated my hips against his, relishing in the fact that he was still inside me, "right?"

I watched with wonder as darkness flooded his eyes-_desire._

His only half-softened cock went rock hard within me, stretching me again, and I flung my head back on the pillows with a moan.

But Jack just had to blow it.

"Your lips are blue."

My eyes narrowed at him, arousal fading, "So are yours."

Jack smacked a hand to his forehead and massaged the bridge of his nose, "Baby...fuck, you _know _how much I want you. I'm pretty damn sure I just spent the last hour proving that to you. But this isn't healthy."

I exhaled slowly, "What are you saying?"

He pulled his hand away, "You know what I'm saying."

I sat up abruptly, setting him off balance where he straddled my hips, but he held on.

"No, I don't, _actually_. Why don't you tell me?" I snapped, voice rising.

"Collis-you know I'm not good for you!" Jack shouted. "I'm too damn cold and it's too fucking dangerous! You're gonna get sick, baby! Really,_ really_ sick!"

"Does it look like I give a shit?!" I shot back. I couldn't believe we were yelling at each other...not after making love like we did.

"_You have to! _This is your life we're talking about!" He gave my shoulders a shake, and it reminded me of the way we were connected.

Newly enticed, my eyes shot to his, and ever so quietly I whispered, "Wrong."

Next second, I shoved him to the side, and before he could protest, settled myself on top of him. We were momentarily disconnected, but I quickly fixed that.

Slowly, I slid down on him, impaling myself.

"Collis!" Jack tried to stop me. "No!" His hands grabbed at mine, but I pushed forcefully on his chest.

"Everything about my life is changing." I said, holding him down as I took him deep and then gasping out, "This is my life now."

A sliver of annoyance cut through his anger, "Not everything is about sex, Collis."

"Did I say that?" Still pushing on him, I lifted up and stretched back like a cat, giving him a fantastic view of my breasts. Using my own strength alone, I began to pump up and down at a sensual pace, making sure to swivel my hips sexily as I ground against him.

"Baby, _no.._." he groaned, clutching the sheets tightly to restrain himself. "Stop. Please, stop..."

I rubbed our hips in a tantalizing circle, issuing another unwilling groan, "No, I _didn't_ say that. I meant you and me. That's my life now."

"You barely know me," he gasped for the second time tonight.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

I leaned forward, our faces now inches apart, and breathed, "Oh, I know you, Jack." I allowed my tongue to lap at his ear, as he had done for me, "I know the way your tongue moves. I know you like it when I kiss you here," I moved my lips to the sensitive spot beneath the back of his jaw, "and lick you." I did so and he gave a shudder beneath me.

I pulled back, looking at him seriously, "I know how well we fit together. I know you like the feeling as much as I do. I know how much we both need this..._aloidia."_

He squeezed his eyes shut,_ "Stop."_

"Let go," I whispered. "I already have. I'm only waiting for you, baby. _Let go."_

He shook his head mutely, biting his lip.

I moved faster on top of him-harder, "You're the one who told me I was dying. Told me I needed to start_ living."_

I was bringing out the big guns now.

He started panting, managing only not to touch me by the slightest of self-control threads. And I cut it by kissing him.

Kissing him good and deep.

His mouth opened reluctantly and he moaned into mine, granting my tongue access.

"Let go," I said between kisses, breathing heavily. Our eyes met once more and the gaze was held this time.

"Let go and make love to me again." I murmured. "I ache something awful for you."

There was a moment's silence, and I thought for a few horrible seconds that he might reject me.

But then he growled and our lips collided, declaring war against one another. His hands dug into my rear, driving himself into me so deep I thought I might burst from the pleasure.

I didn't let him say another word.

Not until he'd cried out his ecstasy to the gods and drawn me up against him, rolling us to the side and pressing my back to his chest.

"Alright," he kept panting in my ear, so rhythmically it became something like a lullaby, putting me to sleep.

But not before I heard him add, "Alright, alright, alright...I'll let go."

I drifted off in peace.

**So a little bird told me someone was thinking about doing a trailer for this story on Youtube? I WOULD LOVE THAT PERSON FOREVER! PWETTY PWEASE... :D :D :D**

**Chapter 20: Frozen Motherfuckin' Morning After**

**Wow, I'm kind of on a roll with this baby, aren't I? Anyway, I couldn't help myself. I'm working on a trailer for this story. I'll let you guys know when it's up :D Listen to:**

**Every Day Is Exactly The Same - Nine Inch Nails (Great song! :D )**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

_**Frozen Motherfuckin' Morning After**_

I woke to calm.

It was a sensation I'd never felt before. Just a peacefulness-no need for interruption...which is probably why it took me about twenty minutes to open my eyes.

There was a light pattering on the windows of the bedroom. It was raining.

It was absolutely perfect.

With a grin, I stretched out on the bed, yawning and feeling a delicious soreness in my limbs. But my arms reached for nothingness, and I panicked.

Shooting up in the bed, I found the hotel room defrosted, and looking much like it had before our...erm..._excursion_.

And there was no Jack. Not even a trace of him ever having been there.

But I knew better. I could smell his musk on my skin-in my hair. I could feel the tenderness in my groin proving where he'd been.

And, after a little closer inspection, I found he'd left his sweatshirt tangled in the sheets at the foot of the bed.

Ah...so he was somewhere.

He was somewhere _shirtless._

That was the kick I needed to get out of bed. I slipped out from under the covers, for once unabashed by my nakedness, and strode across the room to the bathroom for another one of those silk robes.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror...and _damn_ did I like what I saw.

There were little scrapes and bruises and love bites all over me. Ha! Good luck trying to deny this ever happened now, Jack!

...Because I had a horrible feeling he'd try to do that.

My eyes were brighter than usual. Lit with some kind of fire.

I looked healthier suddenly. _Alive._

But I also noticed the flashes of dark crimson on the insides of my thighs. Right...virgin.

After cleaning myself off, I wrapped the robe around my still-tingling skin and tiptoed out of the room the way most people do in the mornings, even if everybody's already awake.

It took me a couple of minutes to find him, I'll admit.

But when I looked to my left, there he was...out on the balcony...in the rain.

_Shirtless._

I groaned, another spread of warmth rushing through me.

He was messing with the raindrops-freezing them as they fell and then watching them shatter on the surface like small shards of glass.

A little twinge of apprehension mixed with my desire.

Would he be angry? Would he say I seduced him?

Oh, god please...no.

Gathering a deep breath, I slid the doors to the balcony aside and leaned against the frame, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

His head turned slowly, eyes sleepy...but not angry. And the relief I felt was like a waterfall.

"Hi," I whispered, and it felt an awful lot like that night in the bathroom.

He swiveled himself around to brace his back on the rail, staring softly at me.

"Hi."

We waited like that for at least another minute. Then he said,

"I would've made breakfast, but..." he shrugged, "it've been cold."

This made me grin, an almost giddy, schoolgirlish grin. "I love cold eggs."

"And how about frozen eggs?"

I bobbed my shoulders, "Nuance."

Jack sighed, turning away from me again and leaning down on the rail. A sliver of disappointment hit me in the chest.

Couldn't he at least...I don't know...sweep me off my feet or something? Hell, a pat on the head would do.

Instead I had to watch the raindrops roll off his back.

"So..." I managed, my voice wavering a bit, "wh-what are we doing today?"

He sighed again, straightening up and moving toward me. My heart leapt into my throat...but he walked right past and into the hotel room, dripping wet.

What was wrong with him?

"I'm taking you to see the Guardians."

My heart sank from my throat to my toes.

"What?" I breathed. _"W-Why?" _I followed him into the room and pulled the door shut behind us.

Jack gave me the "why else?" look, "To see what they can do to dissolve that fucking contract."

I stared pointedly at me feet, shocked, "Oh."

A second uncomfortable silence passed between us. And my attention was drawn once more to the small ache between my legs. It wasn't pleasant...but it was far from unpleasant.

I rubbed my thighs together absently, and Jack's eyes caught the movement.

A pained look appeared on his face, "Did I...did I hurt you?"

I blinked, "What? Wh-no! No, no, no..." My adamant answer seemed to surprise him. And then he looked suspicious.

"_Collis..."_

I threw my hands up at my sides, "I swear to god. Not hurt. Not even close."

He let loose a growl of frustration, and in the blink of an eye, he'd yanked me to him, swept an arm around my waist and slid his hand under my robe.

I gasped when his finger stroked through my folds, hot jets of pleasure tantalizing me...but he released me as quickly as I'd been captured holding very red, very wet fingers in front of my face.

"See?" he demanded. "You're still bleeding. That means I went to hard."

I pulled his hand away and shook my head at him, a dark smile coloring my face, "You could go harder."

All at once, that familiar desire flooded his eyes and his hands clenched into fists. He whirled around again, putting his back to me and murmuring gruffly, "Don't _say _things like that."

"Why, Jack?" I approached him, doing my best to make my voice seductive. I wrapped my arms around his stiff body from behind, moving my hands instantly to his crotch and feeling the bulge against the fabric, "Does going harder make you hard?"

His cock urged me on, straining against me, but _he_ did not. He shoved me away and snapped, "Stop it, Collis! You've got to stop!"

I stood stock still, grinding my teeth together as I studied him.

"I knew it." I bit out.

His eyes narrowed at me.

"I knew you'd regret what we did..." And I shook my head at the unfairness of it all. "You're gonna deny it forever, aren't you?"

He seized me then, and not by the waist or arm.

He grabbed me between the legs and pulled me close roughly. Rougher than I was accustomed to with him.

"_Fuck you,"_ he growled, "if you would _ever_ think that."

The attack momentarily stunned me, but I soon regained my footing, "What else am I supposed to think? Huh? You won't even _look_ at me the same way!"

Again, he shoved me away, this time with a huff. "I'm done here. Meet me in the lobby in an hour."

And he was gone.

**Don't hate me? I promise! Jack's just conflicted :P**

**Chapter 21: Frozen Fury**

**Hey guys. So sorry for the long wait. I've been busy trying to finish Broken Open. (I'm almost done with the epilogue, by the way.) To whoever said it's "really fucking rude" for me not to update sooner, I say DOWN DOGGY! I'm sorry :) : Just busy. I promise to be more consistent :) Listen to:**

**Ugly - The Exies**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty**_

_**Frozen Fury**_

I wanted to throw things.

I wanted to be as violent as humanly possible.

But no. No, I had to walk up and wrap my arms around the bastard so we could fly to the goddamned North Pole.

Selfish prick.

It was as if, at times, his heart could be as cold as his skin.

Speaking of which, I was shivering. The freezing wind was whipping at us as we sped through the air, numbing my cheeks and turning my lips bluer than...

Inwardly, I sighed.

Bluer than the night Jack made love to me. That was the thought I was going for. Fuck. I knew even then that I'd never be able to forget our time together. And knowing that it had probably been the first _and _the last time made my chest ache-made my stomach drop.

I was tired of denying my feelings for him. After all, I'd thought the "L" word, hadn't I? That very same night...

I wondered, was I right? Even through my fit of passion, was it a true statement? Was I in love with Jack?

Oh god, I hoped not.

Judging by the way things were going right now, if it were true, my life would be a miserable wreck.

"You...alright?" Jack asked cautiously in my ear.

My anger snapped back into place instantly at the sound of his voice, "Oh, I'm just dandy. How are you, Prince Charming?"

He gave an annoyed sigh, "If this is about what I said earlier, I-"

"OF COURSE IT IS, YOU JACKASS!"

Ha. Jackass. Jack. Ass. Get it?

Oh, shit. I'd shoved him. Shoved him while we were _flying._

And the falling sensation was just kicking in.

I didn't even get a chance to scream before he'd caught me again, slightly winded, shouting at me, "Collis, _son of a bitch_! What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

He shook me once but then pulled me tighter against him, constricting my body so there was no way he could drop me again.

And I would've blushed a dark scarlet if not for my rage and humiliation.

"That's rich, coming from you!" I spat back.

"Collis," Jack warned. "Be qui-"

"_You slept with me and now you're acting like it was a mistake!"_

"_COLLIS!" _Jack cried, and I suddenly realized my feet were on solid ground...

And that we weren't alone.

Ten feet away, on the brightly colored terrace where we'd apparently just landed, stood the gold, little man of sand.

Staring at us.

Wide-eyed.

"Sandy..." Jack took a step away from me, toward the Guardian, a pleading tone in his voice, "please. You can't-you can't say anything."

The Sandman hesitated for a moment, then formed an intricate symbol above his head. A negative sign.

He wouldn't tell.

Pfft. As if we were kids to be tattled on...

The little Guardian drifted away, sand trailing after him into the pastel castle that must've belonged to the great Nicholas St. North. I loathed every inch of the damn thing.

It was too happy. Too childish.

And what Jack and I had been through felt anything but childish.

Speaking of Jack...he was staring at me angrily-accusingly-arms crossed over his chest.

"_What?" _I spat. "How could I've known?"

And he had the nerve to just shake his head and walk away.

"I can't go in there!" I called after him, titling my chin up and trying to withhold my pride.

Jack whirled around at the door, stabbing me with his gaze, "You'll go in if I _say_ you will."

I took a step toward him in fury,_ "Think you control me?"_

Within seconds, he was right in front of me again, breathing icy air on my face, "For every moment you stand on this ground, I do." And he grabbed my arm as if to prove it.

"Don't touch me!" I wrenched out of his grip, then pointed my finger in his face. "Don't touch me, don't speak to me, don't _look_ at me. I don't want to see you right now."

But Jack never listens.

He grabbed me again, tightly-his fist curling around my own to the point where it was painful. "You have_ no_ right to be this way. I have done nothing but-"

"_WHAT?"_ Use me? Reject me? Bulldoze my self-worth?! Pick one, Jack! Any of them!"

His voice sank to a dangerously low level, just above a growl as he leaned in to whisper, "I popped your cherry, sweetheart. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He was..._mocking_ me.

"I only gave you what you wanted-"

CRACK.

I struck him across the face. With the back of my hand.

"_Fuck you,"_ I breathed menacingly.

I don't know why he couldn't stop himself, but he seemed to have to drive it that one step further. To not only cross the line, but to stomp all over it.

In response, he murmured, "You just did, babe."

And he produced the wickedest smirk I'd ever seen on him.

It was the final straw.

Every now and again, I'd have these moments. These brief periods where I could do nothing to control the power that I'd been born with...

And they never seemed to occur at convenient times.

Frozen in place, staring at him with a slack jaw and white-knuckled fists, I let out one, slow, shaky breath.

The lush surrounding of pretty magnolias and lilacs on the terrace literally shredded themselves, crumpling to the ground like dying fairies. The pretty blue sky above us lost almost all of its color. Even the vibrant stones beneath our feet paled and grew slippery with some strange sort of black tar.

It was pouring out of my hands, I realized. Like ink.

And in a moment of complete and utter rage, I thrust my palms out and plastered the sticky substance to his chest, smothering it all over his sweatshirt and watching his eyes grow wide.

"Feel that?" I ground out. "I live with that_ every day of my life."_

The emptiness flooded his eyes. The darkness. The depression.

It wasn't permanent, but I made sure it would ache for a while.

Tearing my hands away, I forced out, "I can't wait to kill every last flower on this godforsaken island."

And as I left, I threw over my shoulder, "Thanks for inviting me."

**Chapter 22: Frozen Introduction**

**Yay! The trailer is up on Youtube for this baby! :) Link is on my profile, guys. Hope you enjoy it. Listen to:**

**Getaway - Peeping Tom (Awesome song!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

_**Frozen Introduction**_

The damn place went on forever...

Or maybe it just felt that way because I was seething, raving, _burning_ mad. It was literally radiating off of me in waves, the dark ink turned to a curling smoke that followed me everywhere I went.

Fuck him.

I didn't need this shit. Not right now.

I had to get my mind off it.

Passing several sickeningly bright colored doors, I jiggled my way into an empty room. A store room, it looked like. I made short work of the potted plant in the corner, seating myself on the wilted leaves when I was finished.

I wouldn't cry over him. Hell no. Far from it.

I was just suppressing the urge to commit a murder. I knew how dangerous I was when I was angry.

About twenty minutes of peace and quiet passed by...and then I felt a weird drizzling on my shoulder. Jerking, I swung my head to the side, watching the sand pour down my arm and onto the floor.

"Sandman," I stated, after locating him on the shelf above me. "Had a _great_ introduction to you."

He shrugged, floating down to sit beside me. Oh, wonderful...just what I needed. Fucking _bonding_ time.

"I'm in no mood for company."

The Guardian shrugged again.

"Which translates to fuck off."

He flinched at my language but didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he formed a remarkable image of Jack out of sand above his head.

"Agh!" I turned my face the other way in annoyance, but Sandman followed me, creating a question mark in front of Jack's face.

"_What?_ What about the prick?"

The question mark blinked a couple times, and then the image changed.

Changed to one of me and him...together. The sand version of Jack kissed along my clone's neck while she tipped her head back and gave a soundless moan.

A lump formed in my throat and I forced myself to turn the other way, squeezing my thighs together. "Yeah...so?"

The sand changed again, and I snuck a peak.

The question mark was back.

"What?"

With a silent sigh, he spelled out the word.

H. Y. ?

"What do you mean _why?"_

The next image was almost laughable. Jack...with devil horns.

A small giggle lodged in my throat, and I nodded, "You're right about that."

Another question mark.

"He's an asshole," I said curtly, moving to rest my elbows on my knees. "A chauvinistic, pride-heavy, horribly good-looking asshole." I winced at the last bit, and my overly large mouth.

To my surprise, however, Sandman nodded in understanding.

"Oh, right..." I murmured. "You work with him."

NOT. SO. BAD.

The words taunted me above his head and I released an angry sigh, "Maybe not to you...hence the word _chauvinist_."

Another silence came and went, and with it my patience. I stood up abruptly after a few minutes, brushing off my jeans and giving Sandman the closest thing he'd ever get to a goodbye from me.

A nod.

Then I left.

I went trudging down the halls again, but the black smoke had faded, my anger misting into annoyance.

I didn't want to_ be _here. There was nothing for me. They probably couldn't do a thing about that contract. At the thought, Alastor's face flashed inside my brain and I shuddered, rubbing my forehead as if to wipe it away.

That was when I ran into it.

A big, fuzzy thing.

Blinking from the shock, my eyes traveled up. And up and up and up. My god. A yeti.

I couldn't help the pleased smile that spread across my face. "Thought you guys weren't real."

The yeti took a step back with an offended grunt, only causing me to laugh.

And that made him mad.

In the span of about ten seconds, he'd leapt forward, grabbed me by the hair and stuffed me into some kind of overlarge present bag, tying the knot and marching off down the corridor.

"What the hell?" I screeched from inside it, my voice most likely muffled. "Let me out, sweater vest!"

And I proceeded to kick and swing and writhe inside the bag until I got really tired.

The yeti dumped me out on the floor suddenly, and after rolling a couple of feet, and found myself face to boot with the one and only St. Nick. Or North, as they called him.

Shifting my glare from his feet to his face, I got swiftly to my feet, and the room darkened with my anger.

We weren't alone.

No...I somehow found myself within the alarming presence of every known Guardian. The tooth fairy, Sandman, North, Bunnymund...even Jack.

He was sitting in the back of the round room, beside a giant globe, slumped over with his elbows on his knees. God-he wouldn't even look at me.

The black smudges of my hands were still on his chest...and he looked miserable.

I forced myself to be indifferent, and yet a small twinge of guilt survived.

_No, _I scolded myself. _Guilt turns to weakness._

"That's a hell of a way to introduce yourself!" I spat caustically at North. "I just _love_ being thrown in bags and tossed around."

I received nothing but a thick, raised brow.

"Tell me..." I stalked toward him, "do you want to get on my bad side? Because I can show you bad. Maybe even enough to rival my fath-"

"_Enough."_

It was the tooth fairy. And she had a _tone._

"Why are you here?" she asked, flying over to hover before me-and she dared to think she was superior.

"Excuse me?" I growled.

"You bring pain with you. Darkness. Why do you haunt our home, horror-bringer?"

I was about to give her the telling-off of her life, when Jack's voice cut through-quiet and depressed, but firm.

"_Watch your mouth."_

The fairy looked startled, face glowing suddenly with a furious blush.

"But-Jack-" she stuttered, the superior expression melting when she turned to look at him.

"Don't make me say it again," he warned, looking up for half a second to pierce her with his gaze.

And damn but that warmth seeped into me again. That feeling of protection-of safety.

I felt _affectionate._

Again.

Damn him.

**Once again, guys-the trailer is up :) Check my profile for the link. :D**

**Chapter 23: Frozen Helplessness**

**Yay! I got some awesome feedback on my trailer. So glad you guys liked it. :) Listen to:**

**Kryptonite - Three Doors Down**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

_**Frozen Helplessness**_

"She has to go, Jack. I'm sorry," North explained in a heavy Russian accent, a look of exasperation on his face. Jack glanced up from his hands, as if he were nursing a migraine.

"You don't know how much trouble she's in."

"Why would it matter to us?" Tooth demanded, tapping her little toes in the air. "She's evil-"

Jack shot her a warning look, and I was amazed to see her immediately shut up. _"She isn't evil,_ Tooth."

I stood in the middle of them all, completely unaware as to what I should do. Talk? Don't talk? Leave? Don't leave? It was a mess. All I knew was that I'd never feel welcome here.

Not in a million years.

The Guardians continued to argue over whether I should stay. Sandman and Jack had my back, but the other three were dead set against it.

"She's Pitch's daughter!" Tooth screeched at one point.

"She's nothing like him!" Jack defended.

"Could've fooled me..."

"I've had enough," I snapped suddenly. "I didn't even want to come. _Move." _And I made to push past them, but Jack was on his feet in a millisecond, arm looping around my waist and yanking me back against his body.

I felt the desire swell within me-and mentally pounded it to dust.

"Get off."

As I shoved him away, I noticed his expression again. God damn. He looked_ really_ bad. I hadn't expected the depression to hit him so hard.

I forced myself to swallow the guilt once more, trudging out of the room without looking back.

But I heard his footsteps behind me instantly, accompanied by an exclamation of, "Fuck no! Get back here, Collis."

I ignored him.

I ignored him as long as I possibly could, I guess.

He caught up with me a few halls later, cold hand snatching back my arm and spinning me around to face him.

He shook me. "I didn't take you all this way to have you throw it out the window like that."

"Why the hell should I care? After what you said to me?" I struggled furiously to get free.

"God_ dammit, _Collis!" This jolt was rougher. "You think I meant that?"

My eyes widened with incredulity...then rage.

"You think I _actually meant_ that?" he repeated forcefully.

"OF COURSE I DO!" I roared. _"I always will!"_

"Don't do this to me!" he growled, getting right in my face. "You_ know _I was angry. I say things I don't mean."

My fists tightened in blinding fury. _"You. Are. A. Coward."_

"What?"

"A_ coward._ For pushing me away like you did." I glared at him. "And I don't fall for cowards. Leave me alone."

"I took advantage of you!" he shouted, stopping my struggling at once.

Now I was wide-eyed with confusion.

"I took advantage of you." When he said it again, it was only a whisper. His grip relaxed on my arm and his shoulders slouched.

"I don't understand..." I said slowly. Warily. I could tell by the look in his eyes that this would be a heavy confession.

"I..." he struggled to begin, "I _had _to have you. You were beautiful even when you were a little girl. I..._had_ to. I couldn't control myself. I mean...all these fantasies..."

He let go of me completely and slumped against the wall, rubbing his forehead with angst.

"You forget, no matter how long I've lived...I'm still just a teenager. I can't...I can't handle this kind of desire. I mean, it hurts. It physically, _physically_ hurts."

I could hardly breathe.

"Never," he murmured, jaw tightening as if infuriated with himself. "I should never have touched you. I.._.used_ you."

Our eyes met-and a fire burned between them. His were timid and ashamed, mine glowing with shock and disbelief.

"What do you mean...used?" I whispered.

"I needed to satisfy myself."

My fingernails were digging crescent shapes into the heels of my hands.

"And are you?" I breathed.

"Am I what?"

"Are you satisfied?"

I watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed.

"_No."_

As if by some chain reaction, molten lava poured through my body-straight to my groin-electrifying me. I visibly shuddered, and thick, musky liquid dampened between my legs.

The heady scent of my arousal was obvious.

Jack's nostrils flared...and I knew that he knew even before his eyes flickered downward on my body. He swayed where he stood, having to brace himself with the wall again, hand firm, veins in his arm bulging with some sort of repressed emotion.

I ran.

I bolted like a wild boar, terrified of my own feelings. Of my weakness for him.

I ran until I collided with yet another yeti.

Gazing up at him desperately, I resorted to begging.

"Please. Please, give me someplace to stay for the night. _Please."_

_I can't be near him. I'll give in._

"Please. Just the night."

The confused looking beast nodded, motioning for me to follow him down the hall. He must've known who I was, or I don't think he would've complied so quickly.

After what felt like forever, he let me into an empty room in the far corner of a hall. It was perfectly secluded.

And after a quick thanks, I barricaded myself inside.

_No, no, no, no, no. Fight it, Collis. Fight it. You don't need him. You don't need him._

It took an hour for me to relax, and even then I was still a little edgy.

I'd go back to Toronto first thing in the morning. It was safer than Michigan, and hell-I liked the place. I could fend for myself once I got there.

I just had to make sure Jack wasn't involved in any of the equations.

With a long, shaky sigh, I moved further into the room.

It was a bedroom, no doubt. An old one. Nobody had used it in a while, I could tell, perfect white sheets as untouched as they were.

After sprawling across the bed for a good twenty minutes and contemplating my life, I dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower.

That was what I needed.

Some good, hot water.

**ATTENTION: Readers, I am having a Youtube trailer contest for this story! The Deadline is April 5th. Create a trailer for Frosted, upload it to Youtube, send me the link (With spaces between each character) and I will choose a winner. The winner will get a private chat session with me in which they will design their own scene between the characters. It can be either a plot twist or a love scene :) GOOD LUCK!**

**Rules:**

**Must include at least 1 quote from the story.**

**Must be at least 1.5 minutes long.**

**Must include music.**

**Reward:**

**If you win, you get to design your own love scene/plot twist between Collis and Jack. You will also receive a chapter dedication, and a new character will be given the name of your choice.**

**ONCE AGAIN, GOOD LUCK EVERYONE.**

**Chapter 24: Frozen Bruises**

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. (I did promise you guys, didn't I?) Listen to:**

**Always - Saliva (SEXY SONG!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-Three**_

_**Frozen Bruises**_

I let the smoldering droplets slide down my back with a sigh, arching into the stream. It relaxed all my tense muscles...relieved all the soreness.

Groaning, I realized there was still a subtle ache between my thighs.

_Still._

Shaking my head, I focused on the water again, watching the steam rise in the air. The glass doors of the shower fogged up in no time, and I was pretty damn sure I'd spend the next hour in here, provided the hot water didn't give out.

It was strange-looking at my body. It seemed _changed._

I mean, everything was the same. Black hair so long it draped over my ribs when it was wet...barely there freckles and stinging, brass-colored eyes I could see reflected through the hazy glass. My legs were still long and my torso was still short. I was still a little too thin. My piercings were still in place...my skin was clear of tattoos...

So what was off?

_Nothing,_ I tried to convince myself._ Absolutely nothing. You're perfectly normal, Collis._

I flicked my nipple ring absently in thought, bowing my head against the intense stream from the shower head.

Of all things confusing at the present moment, most shockingly was the extent of my powers. They'd never been this intense before. I'd never had smoke fucking _roll off of me_. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

_Sing, _I thought. _You know it calms you down._

Yeah, maybe. But I hadn't sung in a long time. A long, _long_ time.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I let the first chords hum from my throat, echoing pleasantly around the wet walls. Showers were always so acoustic. Shortly after, I moved on to lyric.

"_I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, take your aim. Fire away, fire away. You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium..."_

My fingernails scraped along the tile wall, making small, powerful indents.

"_Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium."_

And in my own privacy, my own comfort...I let one tear fall.

"_Stone-hard...machine gun...firing at the ones who run. Stone-hard, as bulletproof glass. I am titanium..."_

Hands slipped around my hips, naked arms cold and strong.

I gasped, reeling forward and letting out a wild shriek, but they just gripped me tighter. I was drawn back against a hard body, muscled and bare-naked skin on skin...and Jack's face nestled into my shoulder.

"Shh..." he breathed, placing a soft kiss on the side of my throat, "keep singing..."

Instantly, I was gasping for breath-both out of terror and out of lust. "J-Jack?" I stuttered. I quickly gathered an intense inhale.

And relief filled me.

The smell of peppermint and rain was quite present.

For better or for worse, this _was_ Jack. The real one. I couldn't tell whether I relaxed or tensed in his arms.

As the hot water pelted us from above, his cold didn't even affect me. It was almost neutralized by it. And it took everything I had not to groan with satisfaction.

His palms slid up my torso, splaying out over my ribs, and his voice continued in my ear-intoxicating.

"I like it when you sing...keep singing..."

That damn word spilled out of me again, but this time in an entirely different context. _"Please."_

"What do you want?" His words vibrated against my skin, lips moist and almost stinging. He touched my breasts. Gently. Featherlight.

"I want you..." I tried, but it didn't come out right away. "I want you to-"

He hummed, pressing a little firmer against me. I forced my eyes not to roll back into my head.

"I want you to _stop," _I finally managed.

Jack went still. So still. I'd never known a person could freeze this way.

Then his hands dropped and he released me abruptly, the sense of loss impossible to ignore.

I tried to take a breath and tell myself that this was what I wanted. Space and simpleness. A life uncomplicated by sex or...love.

But it was harder than I thought it'd be.

"Look at me," he snapped, voice suddenly rough. Brutal.

"_No," _I bit out, bracing my hands against the wall in front of me and clenching my jaw.

"_Look at me."_

"I can't!" Jesus Christ, I sounded pathetic.

I felt his weight shift on the tile floor. Unsure. Timid.

"Why?"

"Because I can't!" I cried, pounding my fist on the wall. "I can't or I'll..." but I trailed off.

He moved close again, shadow growing behind me, and placed his palms on either side of mine, boxing me in. "Or you'll what?" he whispered, chilled breath caressing my ear. Then, in a swift but gentle movement, before I'd even realized, he turned me around.

And we were face to face.

_God damn your blue eyes, _I thought. _Damn them, damn them, damn them..._

"Or I'll give in..." It was a whimper.

He swallowed hard, eyes intent. "You told me something I'm not inclined to forget last night. You told me to_ let go." _His hand came up to tuck a wet lock of hair behind my ear. "I want you to do the same."

Breaths coming it short, sporadic blasts, I gasped out, "You said you didn't...want me."

He slammed his palm against the tile next to my ear, shocking me with his sudden rage. "I _never_ said that."

How could he go from hot to cold so quickly?

Forcing myself to say what I truly believed, I had to look away, "I am a bruise, Jack. You've only helped me realize that...that I don't want to bruise you."

His eyes lit up with..._something. _Fury? Disbelief? Desire? I couldn't tell anymore.

Then his hands smacked down on my hips and he slammed me into the wall, hard and unforgiving, yet perfect all the same.

"If you are a bruise, Collis..." he growled, "then god dammit, I want to be black and blue."

And he didn't give me a chance to react-to respond. His lips were on mine before I could even take a breath. Like liquid nitrogen, they sealed themselves to me, molding as if they were meant to. He bit down hard, and I could taste the iron of my blood being passed between us.

He kissed the blood away, lapping it up with his skilled tongue and then forcing it into my mouth. I opened up wide for him. I couldn't help it.

_You're weak, Collis, _I told myself. _So, so weak._

"This is wrong!" I gasped when he broke away, but he smothered the words again in another instant. It was to the point where I could only get a word out every other minute.

"This is wrong! We can't do this! This is-"

"_Stop talking,"_ he demanded. And then he rubbed himself against me in such a way that it was impossible not to feel his erection, pressing shamelessly on my abdomen with no fabric to separate us.

I sucked in a sharp breath, and he took advantage of this vulnerability to pin my wrists against the wall behind me.

We stared.

Just stared at each other.

Then I asked a very stupid question.

"Are you..._raping_ me?" But the lack of anger in my voice told him I was unsure.

"Not if you say you want me," he murmured. "Then it would just be me..." his hand trickled off one wrist to trail down my breast and tease my nipple, "making love to you..." he moved the other hand to my pelvic bone, then lower, _"violently."_

His finger thrust upward inside of me, just as powerfully as he described it, and a wanton moan-or was it a scream?-burst out of my throat.

"But I won't rape you, baby. You've got to tell me...or this stops," he warned seductively in my ear.

Fuck it.

Who was I kidding?

I was head over motherfucking heals.

"Yes," I panted, nodding furiously, "yes, I want you."

**The song Collis sings in this chapter is called Titanium. It's the acoustic version by Gavin Mikhail. I would've put it up top except I didn't think it quite fit the rest of the chapter.**

**Speaking of Always, don't you love how he says "done with you..." after the first few lines. The whisper? Ugh! Sooooo sexy. Freaking ovaries exploding!**

**Anyway, haha-just having a weird rant.**

**Chapter 25: Frozen Witness**

**Okay, so firstly, a little housekeeping: To the little shit who's sending me death threats because I haven't updated in a while, you're going about it all wrong. Doing that only makes me want to delay the update, moron. Watch what you say, or I'll just discontinue the story all together. And that's not really fair to my other, PATIENT readers, is it?**

**Right, now that that's done, sorry to the rest of you! You wonderful fans, you! Thanks for sticking with this. Sorry for the wait, but I've been really busy lately. You should check out my profile! I just updated it with a link to a fabulous piece of fanart by SymphyBunny. It's truly breathtaking-I mean...THE DETAIL! :) :)**

**Now, on to the chapter :) WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Listen to:**

**Blood - In This Moment (This is a very violent, passionate, FITTING song :) I really recommend it.)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-Four**_

_**Frozen Witness**_

_~This chapter is dedicated to SymphyBunny for the beautiful fanart she made for this story. Thanks again, Hon~_

"Spread your legs," he demanded in a harsh voice. "I'm not going to be gentle."

And_ oh_, but I welcomed those words with a moan of satisfaction. Parting my thighs a little further, I allowed his hand to sweep under me more comfortably, and he didn't hesitate to plunge his finger inside again and lift me off the ground with it.

It hurt. I will not deny that it hurt-quite a bit. But it was a strange kind of pain. A pain that I almost _craved_...because it made me feel...oh, I don't know. Whole? Real? Alive?

Yeah, that was it._ Alive._

On an entire other level of thinking, I contemplated just how strong he had to be, to lift me like that. It made me bite my lip and suppress a dark grin.

"_Christ," _he ground out, scraping his fingernail along my inner walls and making me scream in agony, almost drowning out his next words. "You. Make. Me. _Furious."_

"Agh! How furious?" I gasped out, writhing. I was baiting him and I knew it.

"_FURIOUS!"_

And in an instant, he'd ripped his finger out and replaced it with his pulsing member, slamming into me mercilessly, as if he was trying to cause me as much pain as was possible.

Too bad for him he was failing.

I shrieked in pleasure this time, clawing at his back and leaving the deepest scratches I could to return the favor. Jack held a promise in his eyes. In the deep, blue eyes glittering with mischief.

A promise that he was going to_ fuck me senseless._

He rammed me into the wall again, roughly forcing my legs around his waist with another pounding thrust.

I'd have to be stitched up after this. I could tell. He was ripping me open inside.

Dragging my nails down his muscular arms, I started to grind with him, meeting him thrust for thrust with a hunger I couldn't control. It was as if we were unleashing all our troubles-all the built up turmoil of our lives.

And in that moment it was blatantly obvious.

We needed each other. We had to be together or we'd certainly go mad.

And I embraced the idea with open arms.

I didn't care what he'd said to me this morning. I didn't care how little we really knew each other. I didn't care that I was the fucking_ goddess_ of death!

All of that was a mere shadow in my mind.

Jack started to make these delicious growling noises in my ear as he neared his climax, undulating against me. I had a wonderful view of his back, getting to watch his muscles ripple with every pulse-every grind.

But apparently it wasn't enough for him...and I'd be hard-pressed to admit that I was satisfied either. In an instant. he'd lifted me all the way up and then flipped us around, throwing our bodies to the floor of the shower and cracking the tile.

The water ricocheted off his back as he hammered into me, arms supporting his upper body as if he was doing push-ups.

I started to gasp and mewl, writhing and shaking my head back and forth. The multitude of sensations coursing through my veins were almost too much to bear.

And at last, with one final pound, he erupted inside of me, cold jets of moisture shooting through my entrance, and I came with a loud scream, my vision turned to white.

We slowly sank from our high with labored breaths, Jack's tense body going limp above me and smothering me with his immense, comforting weight. He buried his face in my neck, panting against me as my hands rose and fell on his back with every expand of his chest.

"Well, _fuck_..." was all I could say. Jack's deep laugh vibrated across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"You must think I'm finished with you," he murmured, and my eyes widened. His arms snaked beneath my back, drawing me out of the water's warmth and into his hold. "I'm not finished. No...I won't be finished until you've screamed yourself hoarse."

A strange, breathy giggle poured out of my mouth as he tossed me over his shoulder and stepped out of the shower, wet feet slapping against the tile floor. We blatantly ignored the deep red blood stains on the ground where we'd been.

And I was glad he had no regrets.

He also seemed to lack any sort of embarrassment at our nakedness. He simply flung the door to the room wide and stalked through the halls toward his own bedroom.

It was only luck and coincidence that no one saw us.

"I can't believe you just did that," I whisper-yelled as he shut the door behind him.

"I think your virtue's safe," he responded, shortly before flinging me onto a wide-and surprisingly _warm_-bed.

Ha! As if he hadn't completely obliterated my innocence a few minutes ago.

But all the laughter in my head died instantly when he sank down to his knees at the foot of the bed.

"Jack..." I breathed, dumbstruck. "What-what are you doing?"

He only glanced at me once before focusing his gaze on my body. I thought I saw him lick his lips.

"NO!" I shrieked, suddenly realizing. "No, Jack! No way in _hell-"_

He yanked sharply on my ankles, ignoring my struggle and dragging me toward him until my calves dangled off the bed and his face was just inches away from the apex of my thighs.

I writhed, bucking my hips and trying to silence the quivering desire in my gut. "NO! I won't let you! Goddammit, I'll die!"

He quirked a brow at me, his grip on my thighs unrelenting, "Why do you say that?"

"It's _humiliating!"_

"Really? I like to think of it more as..._worshipping." _His breath tickled my nether regions and I tried to slam my legs shut, but he would have none of it, prying them apart again. "I've wanted to taste you for a long time, Collis...you're just going to have to let me."

I restrained a moan, forcing my eyes not to roll back into my head.

"Stop struggling," he demanded, and before I expected it, his palm came down on my thigh with a hard slap.

The sudden pain shocked me, and I went silent.

To soothe the ache, he ran his cold fingers over the red handprint on my skin, then leaned down to caress it with his lips, whispering sweet nothings against me.

I was still trembling a little.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

I contemplated it for a second. Was I? No...no, I didn't think I was. Just a little winded. He was a hard man to predict...and I didn't quite know what to do with myself.

"No. No, I'm not afraid of you," I whispered. Our eyes met in the dark, glimmering from the faint moonlight that had trickled into the room.

"Good," he murmured, and then his mouth was on me. _Everywhere._

A wild scream ripped out of me as my senses went ballistic. I'd never felt such a feeling before-as if I was on fire with ecstasy. Drugged. Drunken. _Mad. _My fingers tangled in the sheets, twisting them into knots each time his tongue flicked across that pearl of nerves.

"Oh, Jack! Oh GOD!"

I arched my back, squealing and moaning, but he would grant me no rest. No respite.

That is, until he tore his mouth away and lunged over me, filling me in one clean sweep.

The sensations exploded into an armageddon. Everything around me disappeared, and there was only him. Him, him, him...everywhere_ him._ His scent as I breathed it in so deeply...his taste as I laved my tongue across his lips...his skin as it glided beneath my fingers.

He was all in existence at that moment.

And then of course something had to come and tear it all down. Things were always ruined for us.

A knock sounded on the door, immediately followed by the knob being twisted and opened, and then a timid, feminine voice jarring our wonderful fantasy.

"Jack?"

But he'd already lifted me up onto his lap, impaling me upon him as we reached the inevitable climax.

We both knew who was in the room...watching..._right now._..

"I can't stop it," Jack gasped, and again our eyes met with such clarity-such understanding. And so we hit our peaks identically, groaning and screaming and whimpering, all the while knowing we were not alone.

The haze of bliss dissipated far too quickly, replaced by dread.

Our love...our private, _sacred_ moment...had been witnessed by none other than the skinny little dip-shit Tooth Fairy.

**Hey! Almost forgot! Is anybody working on those trailers? Remember...due date is April 5th! DUN DUN DUN DUN... XD. Hope you're having fun with it :) XOXOXOX**

**Chapter 26: Frozen Tension**

**Damn, it's been a long time. I'm really sorry you guys. You're so brilliantly faithful, though-and I figured, in honor of 500 reviews, I should post. So here it is. :) Listen to:**

**Fake It - Seether (Epic song!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-Five**_

_**Frozen Tension**_

_~This chapter is dedicated to all of you fabulous readers for sticking with it and inspiring me every day~_

"Jack..." Tooth gasped. It was more like a hiccup. _"What-"_

"Get out of here, Tooth," he warned, hitching me higher onto his lap in what was likely meant to be a protective gesture, but only registered a pleasured mewl out of me as he sank deeper into my depths.

When Tooth hesitated, he snapped, _"Get out!" _and she jumped, scurrying from the room with a loud sob.

Jack turned back to me with a half-sigh, half-groan as the door clicked shut, burying his face into my neck and dragging his lips across it.

"We just-" I panted.

"I know."

"And she-"

"Uh-huh."

I tried to gaze down at him seriously, but the things he was doing with his mouth made my eyelids flutter and my jaw go slack. "Jack...the Guardians will all know. In a matter of minutes. She-she seems like the type to g-gossip," I stammered, fingers tangling in his hair as he bent to take one of my breasts into his mouth and suck.

"Jack-I'm serious!" I tried to protest.

His lips slipped off my nipple with a wet _pop_, and he glanced up at me, "Does it look like I'm laughing?"

"It looks like you aren't paying attention..." I moaned when his hand slid down between us to tease my clitoris and his teeth nipped at my earlobe.

The next interruption was a loud pound on the door, and then North's booming shout of, "JACK!"

I jerked, startled, but Jack continued to kiss and fondle me as if nothing had happened.

"Jack," I shook his shoulder frantically.

"Christ..." he mumbled, "why don't we just invite the whole fucking planet in here?" Then he shouted at the door, "I'M BUSY!"

"JACK!" The next pound sounded powerful enough to challenge the door's strength. "OPEN THIS DOOR!" I heard a splinter in the wood.

Jack growled huskily into my neck, fingers still stroking me hypnotically, and without having to look, thrust out his free arm with his palm flat. In a split second, shards of ice blasted against the door, completely sealing it.

The pounds grew rougher as my second climax drew nearer. Somehow, watching him use his strength-use the power I rarely got to see-turned me on more than anything else.

Something slid through a crack in the door...a trail of sand, floating delicately through the air toward us. For a moment, I worried that it was the Sandman himself, come to witness our debauchery...but it was only his sand.

Rhythmically, the grains formed an exclamation point in the air, blinking over and over again. The ice started to crack.

"Jack," I gasped, "please! We need to stop. Not again, _please!"_

With an angry sigh, his fingers ceased and he released me. Staring straight into my eyes, he slid out of me with a look of barely restrained lust. Then he swept me behind his broad, muscled back, hiding all but my face from view.

The ice shattered, and the door came crashing down. The hallway's light spilled into the room, and with it, the gazes of three very angry Guardians...and the Sandman. But he only looked apologetic.

Tooth had the nerve to look smug-like the childish little tattle-tale that she was. I glared at her over Jack's shoulder, gripping his biceps almost...possessively. He squeezed my thigh in reassurance.

"How dare you!?" North roared, thundering into the room. "You. Are. A. _Guardian!"_

"Get out," Jack growled.

North paid no attention, moving so close they were only centimeters apart and, to my shock, grabbing Jack around the neck.

The action frightened me so much that I released one bicep and threw out my hand, allowing some of my own power to protect us.

Black smoke drifted from the pores in my skin, circling around North's hand.

For a moment, he seemed indifferent. Then he winced...then howled in pain.

"Let him go..." I warned, pushing the darkness a little harder and hearing his cries inch up a few octaves.

The rabbit hurried into the room, taking North by the arm and trying to yank him away. "Mate, stop-she's gonna seriously hurt you."

North's usually cherry-red cheeks turned a rather sour shade of gray, and when his cheeks began to hollow out, he released my lover, stumbling backward.

Jack's hand instantly went to mine, entwining our fingers and gripping tight. He belted my arms around his strong, smooth torso and then turned to face the Guardians head-on.

"You have no right to be here. It's our business. No one else's."

North, having regained some of his fervor after a moment, shoved an angry sausage-sized finger toward us, "IT IS OUR BUSINESS! _She is a danger to all of us!"_

"I'll say it again..."

I didn't even have to see Jack's face to know he wore a particularly vicious glare.

"_Get. Out."_

"I should've known..." North raved right over him. "What in god's name was the Man in the Moon thinking? YOU. You! Of all people. YOU. You are unworthy of this task!"

"I have violated no law!" Jack countered.

"It shouldn't have to be a law!" Tooth butt in. "It should be instinctive! Someone like you should _know_ not to be with...someone like_ her."_

"I'll tear your wings right off, bitch-"

Jack reached back to gently tuck my face into his shoulder and stop my talking.

"If anyone's violating anything, it's you lot. This is a private matter-and I want you _out."_

Before anything else could be said, he'd leapt out from in front of me, completely naked, and stalked toward them menacingly.

It was obvious they were threatened by him. He had a hell of a lot of power, and they seemed to know it from the way they backed up.

With one great shove, Jack had North and all the others crowded up behind him thrust back out into the hall.

But as he was picking up the broken door, just before he slammed it on them, North managed to say one last thing.

"You don't know what you're doing, Jack! Alastor will-"

SLAM.

The door was in its place.

**Hey guys! Be sure to vote for Frosted on my profile if you want me to start a fan art contest for this story! :)**

**Chapter 27: Frozen Deserter**

**Alright, alright, alright-I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. I've had a lot of other things going on and I've been struggling to figure out just where I want this story to go, and needless to say, I got swept up by the tide. No fear! I am not abandoning it! I would like to take a moment to thank the anonymous reviewer who let me know their opinion on the story, and also the anonymous reviewer who defended me to them. I appreciate both of you :D I understand that this story is dark and by no means for children, but all of my stories are like that, and I enjoy twisting things. I apologize if my twisting has offended anybody. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and again, I apologize for the wait. Listen to:**

**Halo - Soil (Very good)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Twenty-Six**_

_**Frozen Deserter**_

I shrank back into the sheets, eyes wide as the words sunk in.

Jack remained at the door, hands still splayed across the wood, his back to me. I could hear his soft breaths, watched his broad shoulders rise and fall with every one. And it was as if he knew what he'd see before he even turned around.

Knew that my expression would be one of horror. Disbelief. Betrayal.

"Collis..." he whispered.

I swallowed hard.

"_Collis,"_ he said again, with more force.

"I need my clothes."

"What?"

"My clothes. Please go get my clothes. Then we'll talk."

When I sensed that he might turn, I ducked my head, staring pointedly at the sheets. I could not bear to see his face...not when I knew what I had to do.

"Collis," he said once more, and this time it was more like a sigh. "I'll be right back. Alright? Stay here."

I grit my teeth, wishing I could block out the sound of him leaving. The sound of the door clicking shut.

Then I forced myself into action, springing from the bed toward the dresser. I tore through the drawers, searching for clothes but finding only a couple of bottles of red wine.

Jack's habits were...more severe than I thought.

For a moment, I stood there, hands shaking, trying to figure out what to do.

And then I yanked the cork from one of the bottles and ran back to the bed, spreading out the sheets.

Quickly, I spilled the wine over the white material in messy lettering, spelling out the words _I'm sorry _as clearly as I could. I had to choke back a sob as I stepped back, staring at it...

And then I ran for the window, wrenching it open and flinging myself out into the night, completely naked, without a second thought.

I had to get away from him...no matter how much I cared.

If he knew _anything_ about Alastor...had anything to _do_ with him...that made Jack a danger to me. And I had to get away because there was no way in hell he'd simply let me leave.

I fell...

Fell through cold, bitter air, crashing fast toward the expanse of black water below their candy fortress.

The impact would kill me, but I'd known that when I jumped.

And so I summoned my anger...my fear...my rage at so much betrayal...and let the smoke trickle from my fingers, surrounding me in a cloud of dark energy.

It was like being lifted by puppet strings-like I was marionette-and I stilled just inches above the water, hovering.

Then I let it carry me.

Far, far, far away...slipping through the night in silence, the cool breeze against my skin feeling almost like a taunt. Making me think of Jack...

And it was possibly one of the most difficult things I'd ever had to do. Convincing myself that leaving Jack was for the best...forcing myself not to turn back and run to him.

The lake soon disappeared beneath me, replaced by a long expanse of land covered in pine trees. I drank in their scent, hoping it would distract me, and shut my eyes for just a minute.

Bad idea.

I should've known I was being watched.

And seconds later, I flew right into him.

There was a fleeting moment where I believed it was Jack, but the thought crumpled and warped into one of fear-of dread-as I recognized the touch.

Dark and slow and awful.

Alastor.

He had me suspended in the air, and I hadn't the faintest idea how the hell _he_ was flying, but the point was that he had me.

"You should've stayed in that cute little fortress..." he purred.

I couldn't help it.

I screamed.

There were several seconds in which we struggled in midair, and then one of his thin, boney hands wrapped around the back of my neck, pinching beneath my ears...and I saw black.

_Jack._

_Jack._

_Jack._

_I'm sorry..._

How could I've been so stupid...?

It felt like hours I'd been out cold, lying somewhere...trapped...scared...alone.

Well, alone but for _him._

My eyes didn't want to open. I didn't want to be awake. Because being awake meant accepting where I was...and what I'd done so foolishly. So rashly.

Why didn't I think things through?

I should've spoken to Jack...should've let him explain. God _dammit!_

But that was the least of my worries at this point.

I was no longer a virgin.

And Alastor would figure it out, if he didn't already know.

His words flooded back to me...

_"Remember the rules, kitten...don't think I won't notice if you've been with another man-I'll smell it on you."_

And then...

"_If I do...I'll punish you-and then I'll kill him."_

Bile rose up in my throat, and I was forced to awaken, to flip over so I didn't choke. And then I was retching. Violently.

It took forever to subside.

But when it did, I heard him clear his throat from somewhere behind me, and I jumped, a small shriek ripping out of me. I whipped around to face him, looming darkly in a far corner, a smug smile curving his thin lips.

"Morning, kitten..." he murmured, uncrossing his arms and approaching slowly.

I glanced down at the red silk bed I'd been spread out upon, suddenly proud of myself for getting sick all over it, then back up at him.

"Welcome to my humble abode."

I couldn't see much of anything else, actually. The room was excessively dark. But I could see Alastor clearly enough, and by my standards, that was too much.

"Leave me alone," I said halfheartedly. It was just for show at this point.

There was nothing I could do.

"Tired of resisting yet?" he asked.

"I wouldn't be resisting if you just released me."

"Really, darling, you must give me more credit than that. I am _far _more intelligent than you," he chuckled. "Which is why..." and I noticed the way he sought my eyes deliberately before he finished his sentence, "I made a point of squashing your pretty little boyfriend before you woke up..."

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :)**

**Chapter 28: UP FOR ADOPTION**

_Hello lovely readers! I am girding myself for a lot of hate._

_The support and loyalty to this story all along has been absolutely lovely, but I'm afraid I'm not quite proud of Frosted and have no more interest in continuing it. It isn't fair of me as a writer to abandon it without telling you guys, especially those of you who love it. But don't worry. I'm not just discontinuing and deleting. That's cruel._

_I'm putting Frosted up for adoption. Anyone interested can PM or review and I will take a look at their writing before entrusting it into their hands. They can continue the story as they please, and I will relinquish all rights to it. After I have given the story away, it is imperative that the new writer copy and paste the entire thing onto their new story, because I will be deleting Frosted from my profile._

_I am so deeply sorry for giving up on this, but any further work I'd manage would be crap, if that, because I've lost interest._

_I love you all, and thank you for being so wonderful!_

_Dawn :)_


	4. Games of Blood, of War, of Desire

Title: **Games of Blood, of War, of Desire**

Category: Books » Hunger Games

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Published: 01-12-13, Updated: 01-21-13

Chapters: 12, Words: 14,937

**Chapter 1: Think She'll Be Reaped?**

**Okay, so here's a new one I thought of. Those of you reading Broken Open, Frosted and Like Madmen, I think you'll enjoy it. :) This is not the 74th Hunger Games, but the 66th-and these tributes are nothing short of violent, fire-jawed and sex-crazed. EXERCISE CAUTION, YOUNGLINGS. SEXUAL CONTENT. (Not in this chapter, but later.) Hope you guys like it. Listen to:**

**The Burden - Memphis May Fire**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**Think She'll Be Reaped?**_

"Watch where you hold the wire!" Adrian shouted, shocking me out of my trance. "One wrong move and you short out the Capital."

Grumbling in frustration, I lifted the wire I was holding away from the outlet, twisting the end to dull it.

"Where's your mind today?" he shook his head at me.

"Where everybody else's are-including yours," I snapped, rolling myself back under the engine and cranking the screw back into place. "What the hell was wrong with this one anyway? The gear work is fine."

"Gerod said it was busted. Locomotive wouldn't start."

"Oh, well it's the fuse then," I rolled my eyes at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He scowled at me and my sour mood. I really shouldn't have been speaking to him the way I was. On better days, we were almost friends. But today was nothing like better days. Today was the worst day.

Today was Reaping Day.

As if reading my thoughts, Adrian sighed, "Nyx, why don't you head on home? Reaping's not 'til seven. Get some sleep."

I shook my head, "I can't sleep."

Adrian dropped his wrench, coming to stand over me and frowning. "You're worried," he accused.

"I'm not worried. Just on edge."

But my gut disagreed with me, churning like mad.

"Don't lie to me," he warned. "How many times are you in?"

I just shook my head again.

"Answer me, Nyx."

"Jesus, Adrian-just let it go. It won't matter. In a few hours, someone else'll be picked and we'll be back to doing the same thing we do every day."

With an intake of breath, it seemed to dawn on him. "It's not you. You're worried about Carson."

Glaring at him, I threw down my wrench and rolled out from under the engine, "Stop assuming. You know what they say when you assume..."

"Save it. I'm right, aren't I?"

"What does it matter?" I threw on my coat, buttoning it slowly but firmly.

"It matters." His eyes were bright with both caution and concern, staring at me like I'd never seen him stare before.

Shaking my head a final time, I turned the latch, "See you in the Circle."

Cold air blasted against me as I made my way up the stairwell from underground. I fisted my hands in my pockets, hopping over the dozen or so train tracks and heading back toward the populated part of the district.

It hurt to know that Adrian was right.

I _was_ worried about Carson.

My story, I will admit, is a strange one. People always ask me how my family got separated. How I ended up here, in the wet, muddy wasteland of District 6 with my father, while my mother and two brothers were left in District 3.

I always try to blame it on a big family argument that never happened-try to say that my mother was unfaithful, and that's why my dad and I left.

But it's all lies.

We left because my mother saw something in me that she didn't like-and disowned me.

My father refused to abandon me, and so she divorced him too, throwing us out on the streets to fend for ourselves.

We stowed away on an old coal transport train, which of course led us to the transport district.

6.

My heaven and my hellhole, all at once.

Normally, I could just convince myself that the other part of my family no longer existed. For the most part, it worked too.

But not today.

Carson, my eldest brother, had just turned twelve.

He was eligible.

Add to that, he'd already signed up for tesserae. His name was in that ball far too many times for comfort.

I shuddered at the thought, or maybe just at the cold wind, and knocked my wet boots against my porch before entering our small cabin.

My father was already dressed, standing before our only mirror in the finest clothes he owned. Honestly, they weren't very fine at all, but they weren't torn or covered in mud, and therefore they'd have to do.

"Hi, flower," he smiled at me through his reflection, and I came up behind him to straighten his jacket.

"You look very fetching."

"Really? I'm beginning to think I'm too old for this..."

"What-living?" I mocked, grinning at him as I turned him round to fix his tie.

His smile was gone, however, and he asked the question I knew he'd ask.

"How many times was it again?"

I sighed, smoothing down his lapels, "We've been over this, Papa. 24 times. That's it."

He echoed my sigh and faced the mirror once more, "I suppose it could be worse."

I forced myself to smile, "Yes-exactly. You know Marcia Grant? Her name is in 68 times. Imagine that."

"Poor girl," he clicked his tongue. "Think she'll be Reaped?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

And then I whispered,

"Yes...I have that feeling."

My father did that thing he always does when he tries to diffuse tension. He rolled his shoulders and plastered a fake grin on his face, "You're not really wearing _that_, are you?"

I thumped him once on the back before sticking out my tongue and heading over to the small wardrobe we shared.

There wasn't much.

In the end, I selected a small black skirt and tucked the only white blouse I owned into it. I slid my worn feet into the old, fraying moccasins I'd stitched for myself when I was younger, and went to stand beside my father at the mirror.

"Ah," he smiled. "You look lovely."

I laughed, "I wish, Papa. I wish."

Shaking his head at me, he moved into the kitchen, leaving me to size myself up.

My eyes were paler than usual this day-a sort of dull, mint green when they were normally the color of pine trees. The wire burn on my cheek, jetting dark across my skin from my left eye to my jaw, looked particularly angry.

The mass of dark brown corkscrews fell to my waist as usual, and its color only seemed to accentuate how pale I was.

All my scars-all the little cuts I'd acquired of the years-seemed more visible today than ever.

And I had a feeling it was a sign.

**Chapter 2: People Are Staring**

**BOOM! Two chapters in three hours! I will await my medal on my front porch! Haha. Anyway, here's #2! Listen to:**

**Shadows Die - Black Veil Brides (I STRONGLY RECOMMEND THIS ONE! It really captures the nightmarish feel of the chapter.)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**People Are Staring**_

It took me a long while to realize what they were all staring at.

Did I have something on my shirt? Hell, I wouldn't be the only one.

Town Circle was already filled with potential tributes, slowly meandering to their sections, and the young and old were crowded up behind, illuminated by the street lights.

But when I filled my empty spot in the 17-year-old section, they all turned to look at me, expressions of...dare I say _pity_...on their faces.

"What?" I promptly snapped, turning around, "what are you staring at?"

A girl I didn't recognize tapped my shoulder and pointed at the TV screen, high strung in the night sky.

The cameras were focused on me, for god knows what reason-a major, invasive close-up on my face. Reporters instantly launched themselves into the crowd upon my arrival, shoving people aside to get to me.

"Miss Weaver, how do you feel about this sudden blow?" one accosted me.

"How are you coping with the news?"

"Are you proud for your brother?"

At that I froze, staring the specific reporter straight in the eyes.

Everyone went silent.

"What?" I breathed. "What about my brother?"

As if on queue, the speakers on the street lights around us burst to life-the annoying Capital accents filling the air as two talk show hosts discussed the Reapings that had already happened in other districts, whose Reapings were in the mornings.

"Holly, I especially want to draw your attention to District 6 right now. Their Reaping is about to take place, as you know, but there's an underlying story many people don't know about."

A photo of Carson was suddenly blazing upon the screen, and I felt my face drain of color.

"Now, I know you all recognize him. This is our male tribute from District 3-"

I heard nothing more.

I didn't care how close the cameras from our district were focused on my face.

I screamed.

"NO! CARSON! _NO GOD PLEASE!"_

The surrounding crowd gasped at my outburst, watching me as I fell to the ground in horror, screaming my lungs out.

Peacekeepers were running into the Circle, trying to get to me before I did something foolish.

And then I saw it.

That same fucking talk show was discussing _me._

"What many people _don't _know is that his older sister Nyxon Weaver resides in District 6. Let's take a look at her reaction to her brother's Reaping."

And seconds later, they cut to me, screaming what I had just screamed not moments ago.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

Those.

Fucking.

_Bastards._

They had filmed it on purpose-so that the people of the Capital could have a little more entertainment tonight.

"Heartbreaking, isn't it?" one of the talk-show hosts cooed.

I'd had quite enough.

By the time the first Peacekeeper reached me, I was hunched over, vomiting.

Later, I knew I would look back on this moment and think of myself as pathetic, but right now I couldn't stop it. I felt sick.

Sicker than I had ever felt in my life.

Little Carson.

My precious baby brother...

He was going to the Games.

Right then, I'm not sure it would've made much difference had I picked myself up and smiled or thrown myself off a building.

Something inside of me snapped.

I slowly climbed to my feet, wiping my mouth and enduring the more ferociously staring crowd.

I didn't want their pity.

I wanted this to end...right now.

But that was going to happen. This was Panem, after all-and one most always endure, endure, _endure._

So I forced my face into an expression that was cold, and nothing short of callous. Inwardly, I wondered where my father was-what he was thinking.

Oh, god-the blow would probably kill him.

But I knew there was only one thing I could do.

I turned to face the stage, refusing to acknowledge the reporters or the cameras or even my fellow district people as they patted my shoulders consolingly.

I stared ahead and waited for my turn.

It took roughly twenty minutes-twenty _agonizing_ minutes of awkward silence-for our district escort to take the stage.

Spectus Dame had been District 6's escort for three years now. He was wild looking-but, I suppose, compared to the rest of the people from the Capital-actually quite normal. His skin was dyed silver, and his hair to match, sticking up at outrageous angles.

But what was perhaps an even stranger sight was that of our district mentor.

Kendon.

He must've had a million piercings, rings going through his nose, his brows his ears and lips, seemingly to no end. He was tall and thin, wearing a dark blue suit, and his matted brow hair hung around his eyes.

People say he used to be handsome, before he got addicted to Morphling. Even now I could see the light glaze in his brown eyes, and at my distance that was quite a feat.

People also said he took care of his tributes...but District 6 hadn't won in years.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Spectus went to the podium, "we give you our nation's anthem."

They began to play the Capital's song through our almost hostile silence, and when it was finished, there was no applause.

People were still trying to get my attention.

Spectus went through the Treaty of Treason, and then the rules of the Games, and then finally approached the girls' Reaping ball.

"For our first tribute!" he called out, and if possible the crowd grew quieter. He dug his hand through the paper slips slowly, almost as if teasing us, and then finally returned to his microphone.

"Darcy Macmillan!"

She was not ten feet away from me.

I heard her scream-heard her mother's scream about a hundred yards away-and watched her promptly faint in her friend's ams.

My time for thinking was up.

"I volunteer!" I announced, my voice so loud in the restored silence that it felt like a roar. But it was steady...and that was all I cared about.

Practically giddy with delight, the reporters around me shoved their questions in my face and I once again appeared on the monitor high above.

The collective gasp from the crowd could probably have been heard for miles.

And so could my father's cries.

I shut my eyes tightly for a moment, trying to block it all out and take deep breaths. The magnitude of what I'd just done hit me relentlessly, and it took all I had not to go down like a paperweight.

"My, my," Spectus purred into the mic, "we've not had a volunteer in many 'a moon. Come, my dear...let me see your face."

Swallowing down the bile in my throat, I pushed through the crowd to the front, feeling thousands of pairs of eyes on my back all the way.

Spectus grinned more openly at me when he could see me clearly. I took the steps to the stage at a careful pace, praying not to fall.

And then I stood before him-before all of Panem-and could do nothing but fist my hands at my sides and stare, stiff as a board.

"Oh, but goodness you are _gorgeous!" _Spectus motioned for me to turn in a circle, and I did so.

"My god, those_ eyes..."_

He went on and on like this for several minutes until he realized we still lacked a tribute with testosterone. When he stepped away, I breathed for the first time.

"And for our male tribute!"

His hand dug into the ball, the paper crunching under its weight.

"Chamberlain Philips!"

There was a loud _whoop_ and a boy rushed forward. To my shock, he seemed pleased-excited, even.

I'd never met him-but then again, I didn't tend to hang around the potential Career types.

I know we aren't a Career district, but there are still those occasional, monstrously trained boys.

And Chamberlain was one of them.

By god, he was one of them.

He was not the type I was likely to form an alliance with in the arena. His face was square and sharp, with eyes blacker than coal and a body the size of a battering ram.

My lip curled in disgust, but before I could turn away, Spectus boomed, "Ladies and gentlemen! Your tributes!"

The crowd's applause was delayed and dazed.

"Tributes, shake hands," he commanded.

Chamberlain took my hand so roughly I feared he'd break all of my fingers.

No...

We would _not_ be allies in the Arena.

**Chapter 3: Silver Machines**

**Whew! That's a lot of chapters for one day! But I can't help it-I'm inspired! :) I promise, the male tribute in question will be present in the next chapter, which will be up either later tonight or tomorrow. Listen to:**

**Going In Blind - P.O.D.**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Silver Machines**_

I never said goodbye to my father.

I knew how painful it would be-and I couldn't stomach it.

No, the only person I permitted to see me was Adrian. We'd worked together for five years in the engine rooms. And yet we weren't close enough to be family.

He was the only person i could think of that would be most likely to give me advice.

To not cry.

I sat on the plush, red couch in our district's Capital building, staring up at him as he stared down on me.

Finally, he spoke-and it was with a rush of breath and closed eyes.

"Jesus, Nyx. You've really shot yourself in the foot this time."

A humorless laugh spilled from my lips.

"I had to."

"I know," he nodded fiercely. "Carson."

A choking sound rocked its way out of me, and I shot up from the couch to fling my arms around his neck.

He gasped in surprise, knocked backwards by my force, but then his arms tightened around me.

Neither of us were crying...only holding each other.

"How could this happen?" I whispered.

He hummed against my shoulder, "I don't know." The soothing hand he ran up and down my back began to loosen my knotted muscles. "I don't know..."

I pulled away gently, "I'll protect him. That's all I can do." And with a casual shrug, I looked to the floor.

"Hey," Adrian took my chin in his hand, lifting it and forcing me to meet his eyes, "listen to me. You must also protect _yourself."_

There was a long pause, but I nodded.

"And whatever you do, don't team up with Philips-"

I didn't give him a chance to finish.

"I know that, Adrian! God, trust me...I know."

He bit his lip, "Alright. Good."

Another awkward silence.

But then we heard the Peacekeepers marching evenly down the hall outside, and he panicked.

"Look," he dug deep into his pocket, "I made this for you a long time ago. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but..." he trailed off, holding out to me an interesting entanglement of wires.

It was a bracelet.

"You should...use that as your token," he breathed, gazing at me sadly.

My eyes shot to his, "Don't do that!"

"What?" he stepped back, aghast.

"Act sad! I-I don't...I don't want you to be sad for me! I want you to focus on Carson."

He laughed tiredly, "No deal, Nyx. I'm betting this month's salary on _you."_

And then the Peacekeepers were there, wrenching him away from me-and I never had a chance to respond.

It felt like an hour I sat there on that couch, staring straight ahead in a daze, but it had probably only been a few minutes.

The Peacekeepers didn't knock. They just threw the door open wide and granted my Morphling-addicted mentor access to the room.

Kendon leaned back against the wall, seemingly sizing me up with his eyes. His hands were thrust casually into his pockets-and I almost wanted to scream at him. To remind him of the seriousness of the situation.

"Brave thing you did," he murmured. "For your brother, I assume."

"You know what they say when you assume..." I ground out, finding it so strange that it was the very thing I'd said to Adrian that morning.

He chuckled, "But what if I only said I was assuming, when really I _know."_

"I am happy for you," I said quietly. "Please be omniscient somewhere else."

Kendon cocked an amused brow, "Interesting. You seem smart, Weaver girl. Maybe you'll survive the Bloodbath."

Next I knew, he'd nodded his head at the Peacekeepers, and they were ushering me out of my seat none too gently, leading me to the train station.

No one from our district was there to see us off.

I suspected they'd closed the doors, but perhaps that was just to make myself feel better.

Chamberlain looked right pissed about it. I'd already pinned him as one who liked the fame. He climbed noisily onto the train without so much as a glance at me, while I stared in awe at the locomotive.

So this was what Adrian and I spent all our time building engines for?

I wasn't disappointed.

It was a beautiful machine, all silver and sleek-like a metal blade right after it's forged. Kendon actually had to push me aboard to get me to stop ogling it.

Its inside was like a palace, to me, though my district partner made himself comfortable enough, sprawling lazily across one of the chaise lounges.

Spectus appeared in the doorway just as the train lurched forward, and I had to grab the window ledge for support.

"There she is," he grinned, striding swiftly to me with the grace of someone who'd been riding trains for a lifetime. "How is our little Nyxon faring?"

I didn't like how he called me little.

I was 5'8-and he hand't even the chance to see my build yet.

All the muscle I'd gained from years of trekking through our rocky hills was hidden beneath my blouse. I suppose I just looked like a regular girl.

"Do another spin for me, will you? I'm trying to figure out how to describe you to your stylists."

My brow creased, "My stylists?"

He barked with laughter, "Oh, my dear, you are _adorably_ naive."

And then he flounced away, muttering something about a "delicate flower" and completely forgetting the spin.

All these cryptic things were giving me a headache, but when I moved to the couch, Chamberlain only stretched out further, denying me room.

I growled under my breath, "I'm just going to _love _your company..."

Kendon reminded me he was present by laughing, and I jumped, startled.

"Come on, Weaver...you look like you could use something to eat."

As if on cue, my stomach made a loud, embarrassing noise-but the thought of eating didn't appeal to me.

I would throw it all up, I was sure.

"No, thank you..." I whispered. "Is there a compartment where I can change?"

He eyed me strangely, twisting his lip ring as if trying to decipher a puzzle. Then he gave a light shrug, "Of course. Nayla," he called, and a young woman in a chef's uniform appeared at his side. "Take Miss Weaver to her room, if you please."

"Right this way, Miss," she said, taking my hand.

I could already sense this was going to be a long ride.

**Chapter 4: The Boy From 7**

**Alright, I HAD to let you meet him tonight...even if nobody's still up. Haha :) Listen to:**

**Gotta Be Somebody's Blues - Jimmy Eat World (YOU HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS ONE IF YOU WANT TO TRULY UNDERSTAND THE SEXINESS OF THIS CHARACTER! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Four**_

_**The Boy From 7**_

The television set had been tempting me ever since Nayla had taken me to my small, yet extravagant compartment. Everything was made from fine, polished cherrywood, and it smelled of lilacs and pine.

I wanted to see the Capital News-wanted to know what was happening out there...but it would mean I risked seeing my brother's Reaping.

Or worse.

My own.

It was a losing battle from the start, I suppose. After about ten minutes of mental turmoil, I finally coaxed myself into grabbing the thin remote control off the table and switching the damned thing on.

I let out a breath of relief, finding the news cameras focused entirely on District 7, whose escort had just walked onto the stage for their Reaping.

It was the first time I'd seen District 7.

But, by god, it was beautiful.

The Capital Building was built of fine wood, surrounded by a mass of dark, thickly green trees. A mountain, shrouded in mist, was visible in the distance.

And the sky was cloudy-a gray, brooding overcast-as if about to rain.

My favorite.

"Ladies first!" their overzealous escort cried, practically skipping to the Reaping ball. The cameras zoomed in to get a close-up of her fingers as they seized the first slip.

Clearing her throat, she read into the microphone, "Maybell Hanes."

I could clearly see the victim. She was in the front row-a thirteen-year-old. Instantly, the poor girl burst into tears.

I sat back on the bed, breathing deeply and trying not to get too furious as I watched. It was the way the Capital covered it-as if it were a wonderful celebration-watching the people break down and send their children to their deaths.

Trembling, the little girl took her place on the stage, and her escort whispered something excitedly in her ear.

This only made the girl go paler, and she threw a hand over her mouth.

"Now, for the gentlemen." The escort had the nerve to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively at the crowd.

I was very close to switching the television off again, if only from sheer disgust.

But then she called the boy's name.

"Donovan Libby."

A loud girl's shriek sounded from the crowd, and the cameras zeroed in on the commotion in the center of the square.

The girl looked to be about eighteen, and she was clinging to the boy with abandon, screaming and weeping.

They must've been lovers.

As Peacekeepers started to pull the Donovan boy away, another voice sounded from the crowd. A low, sensual sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on up.

"I volunteer."

The camera crew looked to be struggling to find its source.

For a moment, the lens swung this way and that, blurring on the television before finally settling on the owner.

Oh god.

I dropped the remote.

At first, I had thought that it might've been the boy's brother who volunteered for him-but I was much mistaken.

No, this boy didn't look anything like the other.

Straight, jet-black hair dusted across his forehead, framing his face so perfectly it was almost abnormal. His skin bore a golden tan-as if he'd worked long hours in the sun, but not enough to burn.

Fucking hell, the close-up was intoxicating me.

He had eyes as fierce as hellfire-a striking, obliterating, gunmetal gray-and they were staring straight through the lens, at all of Panem.

Shamelessly.

His nose was slightly crooked, perhaps from being broken one too many times, and his lips were full and soft looking.

I followed the smooth creases of his neck to the collar of his ragged, black button-down.

He had a chest so broad and so powerful, I didn't even want to think about it.

My eyes swept over the curve of his shoulders, sloping magnificently for what seemed like forever.

He was very tall.

Maybe 6'4.

And he had the body of a lumberjack-as his district entailed. Long and lean and beautifully carved.

The camera cut to a wide shot, and I was shocked to lose sight of him, nearly falling backward on the bed.

What the hell was that?

That girl had started screaming again-but this time for him. For this dark, handsome stranger...

I didn't even think about where my thoughts were going-the way I was looking at my fellow_ tribute. _Someone I would have to kill to save my brother...

It appeared there was some sort of love triangle between this girl, the boy that was Reaped and the volunteer.

Add to that, the crowd seemed to know what was going on.

"Come, come," the escort beckoned, and the tall boy strode steadily onto the stage.

Oh my god, I had to stop looking at him.

The things I was thinking were wrong...

Even the escort seemed to be fawning over him, batting her eyelashes and the like. He ignored her pointedly, staring at the screaming girl as she was dragged from the square.

"And what is _your _name, handsome?" the escort cooed.

"Axelus," he breathed. I groaned, falling back and hitting the pillows.

The name alone caused fluttering sensations in my gut.

"Last name?" the escort probed.

"Creed."

Oh, kill me.

How was I supposed to face this boy in the arena? How was I supposed to look upon that and see death?

I could tell you several things that came to mind from looking at him, but none of them had anything to do with violence.

The two tributes shook hands, but I couldn't take my eyes off him, watching the way he moved, the way his eyes swept around, seeming to evaluate everyone-

"Miss Weaver?" A harsh knock sounded at my door and I yelped, slamming the off button on the remote.

"Miss Weaver, are you ill?" the voice continued.

"N-no," I stammered breathlessly.

_No, I'm not ill..._

"Come to dinner, then." I finally recognized it as Kendon's voice.

I took a moment to steady my breathing before replying, "I'll be there."

Oh god, oh god, oh god...

What.

Was.

_That?_

**Chapter 5: Cream of the Crop**

**Okay! I promise, just this chapter and the next before you get to meet Axelus in person! *swoon!* I had a couple of readers ask me how his name is pronounced. Sorry if that wasn't clear. It sounds like "axx-ell-uss." Yeah? Alright, here's the next chapter :) Listen to:**

**Open - Chevelle**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Five**_

_**Cream of the Crop**_

Chamberlain was predictably stuffing his face when I appeared in the dining car.

I could not begin to describe the delicacies laid out before me. Exotic breads and pastries and stews, fruit I didn't even recognize and sweets beyond imagination.

There was a strawberry and apple tart at the center, which I had my eye on from the beginning.

"Hello, lovely," Spectus grinned, pulling out the chair beside him and offering it to me. I sat down warily, glancing around the table at the familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Kendon was watching Chamberlain eat with amusement, and when the large boy spilled gravy all over the table, he threw a napkin in his face.

"Miss Weaver?" Kendon turned to me. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Slightly surprised, I realized my plate was still empty and reached out to take some of the tart.

"So, let's hear it," Kendon said, after allowing me to eat for a moment. "What are your skills? What can you bring to these Games that will give you any more chance of survival? Because the way I see it, things aren't looking to good for either of you."

He was talking to both of us, but he was looking at me. I shoved a bite of tart into my mouth so that I wouldn't have to answer first.

Kendon turned to Chamberlain, "Brute boy-yes, you. Tell me your talents."

Around a mouthful of food, he seemed to shape the word _weightlifting._

"No." Our mentor shook his head immediately, "No, there are too many of you-you'll have to have something better than that. More unique."

Chamberlain just shrugged.

"What about you, Weaver?" He trained his hard, scrutinizing gaze back on me. "Give me something I can work with."

I mimicked my district parter and bobbed my shoulders, because, in all honesty, I didn't want anyone to know my plan of attack. Secrecy meant a better chance of my brother's survival.

It was strange. Ever since I'd volunteered, it was like my body was only a shell, going through the motions. My mind was elsewhere, I suppose, and nothing-save that District 7 boy-seemed to affect me.

I knew I was facing certain death. There was literally _no way _I could get out of this alive, but strangely, that didn't seem to matter anymore.

All that mattered was saving Carson.

"Cream of the crop we've got here," Kendon mumbled, massaging his forehead.

Spectus clapped him hard on the back, "Have faith man-maybe they'll surprise us."

Probably the smartest thing he'd said all night.

The woman sitting opposite me-presumably our escort's right hand-launched into a conversation about clothes, and then about the Reapings, her burner red hair flicking this way and that as she spoke.

I tuned everyone out...for the most part.

It was when she said, "...something to work with because Creed is so handsome," that I was brought back to the present.

_Creed._

The boy from 7.

I snapped to attention, trying not to look as if I was listening, but following every word.

"But, Destia, love, it's not as if we don't have some fair faces here," and Spectus nodded very indiscreetly at me.

I tried not to flush.

"Oh, I know-but it's always easier when you can play the heartthrob card. Know what I mean? Because-well-just _look at him."_

I was silently agreeing with her when, all of a sudden, words started coming out of my mouth.

"What's his story?"

What felt like a hundred pairs of eyes snapped to me in an instant. I looked up from my half-eaten tart, and_ did_ flush this time.

"Creed, I mean. I saw his Reaping."

Destia recovered first.

"Oh, well-apparently the boy that was Reaped was his sister's lover, or something like that. They say the tribute didn't even permit her to see him before they left for the Capitol."

_Just like me,_ I thought.

But, _oh_ how it was so _obvious!_ His sister! It made perfect sense now. He was protecting his sister's love.

The conversation continued, but I sat back in my chair again, mulling things over. It seemed like only a few minutes later, they were telling Chamberlain and I to go to bed.

"It's been a long day for both of you," Spectus said. "Get some sleep before we arrive."

And my sleep went by too quickly.

I'd never had a comfortable bed to sleep in until this moment. My old bed back in 6 was made from rickety springs and coarse fabric.

But this bed seemed to sink under my weight, billowing up around me like a cloud. I felt like I was laying in a vat of whipped cream-a treat I'd only just tasted at dinner that evening.

And because of this, sleep came too soon-and was gone in what must've been only moments later.

Spectus was hammering at my door, "Wake up, sleepy head! We've arrived! Oh, I can't _wait _until you see it! You'll just simply die!"

_Literally, _I thought to myself, groaning into the feathery pillow.

I tumbled grudgingly out of the bed, crawling over to my pile of discarded clothes and sliding into them like a snake into already shed skin.

My blouse was creased, a big wrinkle lining the front, and when I saw it in the mirror I actually laughed.

But all at once, the sound was too foreign-too misplaced-and I shut my mouth again.

Chamberlain yawned noisily as the whole of the District 6 team paraded down the train corridor, him being flanked by that red-haired woman and Spectus, me by Kendon alone. The others, of whose purposes I had no knowledge, were marching in front.

The window caught my eye.

Oh god.

There it was, in all its shining glory. Tall, golden spires shot into the air for what seemed to be thousands of miles. That streets were lined with fountains spewing clear-and I mean_ crystal clear_-water.

Oh, and the lake at its side was-

My view was abruptly cut off by a tunnel.

"You'll get to see it again, Weaver," Kendon assured me, a knowing smile curving his pierced lip.

I quickly shook my head, "No-I don't care to."

He had probably rolled his eyes.

Spectus glanced at me over his shoulder.

"Ugh! That wrinkle is ghastly!"

I jumped back a little at the high pitch of his voice.

"What am I supposed to tell Tavian, hmm?"

Before I could question him, the sounds of screaming appeared, and next I knew we were under the hundreds of prying eyes of Capitol citizen, crowded like moths to a flame in the train station.

Never had I seen a more bizarre bunch.

Kendon grabbed my shoulder just before we exited, whispering in my ear, "Remember-big smiles."

Oh, yes...

Lots and lots of sunshine.

**Chapter 6: A Goddamned Forest Fire**

**Damn...I wish this story were as popular as Frosted. Don't get me wrong, I ADORE all of the Frosted Fans! It's just-I don't know. I feel really passionate about this story, and it's not getting a lot of attention. Sigh. Oh well-I'll take what I can get :)Those of you who've been supported, you are the BOMBSHELLS! Listen to:**

**The League of Extraordinary Nobodies - El-P**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Six**_

_**A Goddamned Forest Fire**_

"Drop your robe," he said.

"Excuse me?"

_Listen to them, Weaver. They have all the control, here._

Tavian's eyes narrowed, and it was with shaking fingers and my mentor's words that I reached for the hem of my white covering.

My prep team had scraped me raw; not a hair existed on my body other than my eyebrows and the long curls tumbling down my back.

When the robe pooled at my feet, I made the mistake of glancing up and catching my stylist's expression. It was dark, and-dare I say, _hungry?_

Ugh-Capitol filth...

Tavian must've been in his late thirties. He had dark blue hair, slicked back off his forehead, and a rather stocky, unimpressive body. I'd thought at first that he was gay...but it appeared I was wrong.

"You have a perfect body," he remarked before beginning a circuit around me. I felt heat rise further to my cheeks-and I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and slide under the door crease.

"These hips-" he smacked one very hard, irritating the already irritated, bare skin, and I yelped.

"Magnificent." He came to stand in front of me again, eyes wandering where they shouldn't. "Your breasts too. Very nice."

I couldn't hold it in. "I'm not a piece of artwork!"

He only smiled at this, "Oh, but you are, Nyxon. And soon, you'll be my masterpiece."

I clamped my mouth shut, remembering that this man was one of my lifelines in these Games. He gets me sponsors-sponsors keep me alive.

And I keep Carson alive.

Simple as that.

Tavian smacked and rubbed his hands together, "Let's get to work, shall we?"

My stylist was finished with me, though I'd yet to look in a mirror, and now my prep team was back, plastering something dark all over my face.

I'll admit, I was very confused as to what sort of angle Tavian and Jadis were going for here. Warpaint? Everything looked either black or silver.

"You're just going to look stunning!" one of them buzzed, their hands blurring around me.

It felt like hours they continued, forcing me to hold still and sit up straight before slipping me into a skin tight body suit.

I had a feeling Chamberlain would get to wear something looser...

"You're all set!" my prep captain-Kenida, I think it was-announced, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

I muttered a "finally" under my breath.

The three of them helped me off of the table and toward a wall mirror on the right.

And I couldn't help but gasp.

My skin was completely black-and not as in African American, but as in pitch black. All across it were jagged, uneven dashes of silver, traveling around my body horizontally.

My jumpsuit looked very similar apart from the flecks of gold they'd added, my hair dyed completely silver while somehow remaining silky.

And for the longest time, I didn't understand.

But then I moved-and I saw it.

With every glint of light, the dashes seemed to move, the silver creating the most incredible optical illusion. It gave the appearance of lights flashing by at high speed-as if on a train...

Transportation.

As much as I hated to admit, I was impressed with Tavian. Behind that perverted mind was a small ounce of ingenuity, it seemed.

I spun around just for fun and my prep team giggled-yeah, I wish_ I _had the time for giggling. Or even the desire to...

"Does Chamberlain look like this?" I whispered.

"Almost exactly." I turned at the unfamiliar voice.

So this was Jadis, Chamberlain's stylist.

I already envied him. She seemed all the more sane, regardless of her wild chartreuse curls and waxed off eyebrows.

"They've finished just in time," she said. "The parade is in twenty minutes."

"Where's Tavian?" Even though I could care less...

"He's just doing a quick check on Chamberlain. He'll be at the loading area."

Fucking _wonderful._

I couldn't wait to be visually violated by my stylist in public.

"And...Kendon?" I added hopefully.

"He and Spectus will be there, too," she assured me. "Never fear."

I gathered a deep breath, taking one last look at the alien in the mirror. "Let's go, then."

It seemed to take ages to get to the ground floor from the sixth. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was just because I was nervous.

Which I shouldn't have been...

In retrospect, this would be the easiest part of these Games. Why the hell was I even _thinking_ about breaking a sweat?

Tavian and I matched almost completely, as Jadis had said. But I was right-he got to wear something_ a lot_ looser.

"You ready?" Jadis asked when the two of us hesitated as the doors opened. At least we were alike in that prospect.

I nodded first, taking a firm step out of the elevator and endured the sight of the tributes around me.

This was the first time I'd seen many of them.

District 1's tributes looked gaudy as usual, covered from head to foot in diamonds and pearls. But I got the small satisfaction of hearing the two gasp as I passed, staring as the silver on my body reflected off of every surface.

It was incredibly distracting.

District 2 had mud all over themselves-which was somewhat hilarious, if you thought about it. District 3 were all tangled in wires.

I'm not sure what Districts 4 and 5 were reaching for, but they apparently didn't meet the quota.

And then, suddenly, I felt my face flush like mad-and was instantly grateful for all the warpaint.

He was there.

Of course he was there! He was a fucking _tribute!_

But seeing him in person was like being dropped on another planet, and then having to fight for nonexistent oxygen. (Yes, I'd given this a great deal of thought.)

I wanted to murder his stylist for doing this to me.

They'd removed his shirt, revealing every inch of his finely toned, muscular torso, and then, just to piss me off, soaked him in oil that glistened with each movement. His jet black hair was dusted with-could they've been_ embers?_

He wore simple, dark pants, but they were covered in chalky gashes, and on his face, just below his wicked,_ wicked _eyes, was a similar warpaint strategy. But it was only three dark lines, dragging down each cheek.

The only thing on his upper body was a strange entanglement of weeds, which looked to be dead and crumpled.

It was that detail that made the purpose of it all clear to me.

He was a forest fire.

And it was breathtaking.

Add to that, he was staring right at me-burning me with an iron gaze. Why would he look at _me_, of all people? There were much prettier girls in this room-ones with much more obvious and provocative costumes...and quite a few of them were giving him "the eye."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and it made me want to groan because his muscles flexed, the sinews of his forearms defined so elegantly in the dim light.

His eyes were narrowed, studying me.

And then an insect-like woman scurried up to him and began to thwack his arms roughly until he put them down at his sides again, shrieking something about _ruining it all! _before hurrying away again.

The moment her back was turned, he recrossed them.

_Oh, god help me..._

**Chapter 7: Superior Angles**

**Hey guys! So, a trailer is up on Youtube for this story! You should take a look at it! I hope you like it :) The link is on my profile. Listen to:**

**Meet Your Master - Nine Inch Nails (This one is REALLY good.)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**Superior Angles**_

"It's time," Kendon murmured, flanking me as our team started to head toward the District 6 chariot.

I swallowed thickly, realizing I'd yet to look-and I mean really _look_-at my brother. I'd been too distracted when I walked in to even notice him as one of the District 3s.

Ahead of us, already mounting his chariot shakily, I saw him try to loosen the wires twisted around his small body.

Oh, god-little Carson. So vulnerable.

It just made the game that much sicker...

"Don't dawdle, now," Spectus said lightly, flapping his fingers against the small of my back.

"Stop! Good god man, you'll smear her!" Tavian shouted, not only startling our team, but some outsiders as well.

It appeared Axelus and I were in the same boat-or maybe I just wanted to think that.

_Fuck,_ I was acting so stupid.

Kendon helped me onto the chariot, which was painted like Chamberlain and I, and I trained my eyes on the horses, because the sight of my brother was just too much to bear right now.

I wondered-did he even know I was here with him yet?

He had to, didn't he? He must've seen it.

But then again...

"Hold on tight to the front rail," our mentor warned us. "These horses move faster than you think. I've seen many a tribute fall out in my years."

I squinted suspiciously at him, having the distinct feeling that _he'd_ been one of those tributes.

The big metal gate at the front of the terminal opened, and the roar of the crowd reached us in an instant. My stomach plummeted.

I was fairly certain these sponsors would _not_ take a liking to me.

District 1 rode out, and the roar intensified notably.

I became suddenly aware of the order of the number system, and I felt like throwing up.

1,2,3...4,5...

Ah, fuck...

6, 7...

His chariot was right behind me. He'd be staring at my back the entire time with that intense, stabbing gaze of his.

How was I supposed to focus? Hell, how was I supposed to remember to hold on to the rail?

It appeared that already wasn't working out for me, because when our chariot lurched forward, I nearly lost my footing, arm shooting out to snatch the metal bar just in time.

"What did I say?" Kendon called after me, and I could just picture him rolling his eyes.

The crowd's screams were deafening when we breached the terminal, and I was certain it wasn't District 5, and their godawful...abstract things...

So it must've been us.

Oh, right-moving at such a speed must've made our "train window" effect doubly interesting.

I was sure to keep my eyes straight ahead, ignoring the way Chamberlain waved and cat-called to the audience, like he was some kind of big star.

Well, he wouldn't be once I killed him in the arena.

Woah...where did that thought come from?

I shook it away, focusing rather on making my face deadpan, my eyes bored. I wanted to seem like nothing special.

At least one sponsor was bound to take me on, even if it was only for my appearance.

But I couldn't let vying for sponsors get in the way of my "angle," as I liked to call it. The angle of a silent, innocent girl who was terrified and shy-well that would never work for me.

I mean, considering the reason my mother disowned me.

"_There's evil in your eyes,"_ she'd said.

Well, fuck you, woman-it's this evil that's going to keep your beloved son alive.

But I digress.

I couldn't pull off the innocent thing-I just didn't look like a sweet, kindhearted girl who hugged trees and skipped through flower beds. I looked like a disturbed girl with a past...

...which was what I was...

Therefore, my only option was the "silent and misunderstood" card, which I'd played many times at school back in 6.

I wanted to look like I was contemplating something...

Surely that would frighten _some _of these tributes. The littler ones, at least.

The crowd's eyes followed us for only a few seconds it seemed, before they caught sight of District 7-and I really couldn't blame them for forgetting about us.

Axelus looked like a god.

I heard them chanting his name, and the majority of the female spectators were throwing roses.

Yes, he would outshine us all-which worried me.

Not because I thought I no longer stood a chance, but because it meant he'd survive longer...which meant I'd probably have to kill him.

I could just picture it now.

_I stand before him with a bloody knife, growling and baring my teeth. He settles into a predatory position, crouching and snarling right back at me._

_I go to lunge, take one good look at his beautiful, cobalt eyes...and hesitate._

_He stabs me through the heart. I die. He moves on to kill the final contestant._

_Carson._

Yes, that was a disaster.

I needed the Careers to get him first-unless of course, he _was_ a Career.

He certainly had the potential.

Shit.

This was a goddamn mess.

I once again shook my head at myself, trying to pay attention to what was going on around me.

The chariots were pulling into the square, where President Snow would make his opening speech.

Predictably, Axelus was projected high on every available screen-and that didn't help one bit with my focus.

I was surprised, however. He bore no dazzling smile, as I'd expected, nor was he flexing the muscles that just _begged _to be flaunted.

No, his face was almost blank.

_Almost._

There was a barely there smirk that only just curved up the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the audience.

He did not look bored, as I did, but rather omniscient.

He knew everything there was to know about these Games, every sponsor-every audience member's darkest secret. He knew, and he gazed at them all with a look that both enticed and challenged them.

That _bastard._

How dare he take _my "angle"_ and twist it into something superior to gain favor!

But wait-that was what we were all trying to do, right?

Christ, this boy was messing with my head. And I couldn't have that.

No, I couldn't have that.

**Chapter 8: Get a Load of This**

**Okay, guys-those of you who are in this for the sex, I promise you won't have to wait much longer. Things will progress more quickly than in my other stories, because-well, think about it. They only have one week before the Games. Be prepared... ;) Listen to:**

**The Antidote - St. Vincent**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**Get a Load of This**_

I remember distinctly, that night was a long one.

We'd eaten dinner quickly with our district team in the massive hotel room they'd provided for us, and then we were corralled into bed with, and I quote, "NO EXCEPTIONS."

My prep team had told me how stunning I'd looked, but really-after seeing some of the other girls, I just didn't believe it anymore.

But who cared, anyway? Maybe the Games were a beauty contest for some, but for me they were about survival.

I lay in bed awake that night for hours, just staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

Accepting eminent death had been simpler the night before, perhaps only from the adrenaline rush I'd been subjected to. But tonight it was eating away at me.

I felt ghost pains all over my body-stabbing, strangling, bleeding out. It made sleep literally impossible.

That was why I looked the way I did come morning.

Spectus actually shrieked when he saw me walking to the table for breakfast.

"My god! You didn't sleep?"

"I did," I lied. "I just had to scrub myself raw to get all that fucking make-up off."

He gasped, "Language!"

"Yes, you really should watch your language, Weaver," Kendon entered the room, reading what looked to be a Capital newspaper and acknowledging me with a tired nod.

I huffed, "I think I've earned the right to swear."

"Maybe, sweetheart, but you won't win any sponsors that way. Swear at Caesar, and you're a dead girl."

A short, plump looking Avox scurried into the room, laying before us a spread of intense Capital breakfast foods. I nodded at her, but she seemed in such a hurry to leave that she didn't respond.

Kendon glanced up from his paper, a look of surprise on his face, and turned to Spectus, "Take a look at this."

He showed him something on one of the inner pages, and our escort's eyes grew wide. He snatched the paper from Kendon a second later.

I rose an eyebrow, "What? What is it?"

Spectus chuckled darkly, "Get a load of this..." Without warning, he flipped the paper around so I could see it.

Two of the inner pages were filled by a single, large picture-or rather, two pictures joined together.

Half was a side of my face from the parade last night, silver dashes, dark skin and all. The picture must've been taken from very close up, because it was a perfect shot. I looked dark and determined.

Part of me wanted to be glad that my "angle" came off appropriately, but the other half of the paper wiped that thought from my mind.

Axelus's face was joined with mine at the crease, his right half with my left. The embers were visible in his hair, and his eyes held a wicked secret nobody knew. His lips curved up in a smirk, warping my pursed lips, dark paint lines running down his cheeks.

He held the power in this photograph.

And it infuriated me.

"What is this?" I breathed.

Spectus shrugged, "Who cares? It's publicity, right?"

I threw down the paper, "Why the _hell_ did they put the two of us together!?"

"Calm down, Weaver," Kendon put his hands up, encouraging me to sit back down. "There's an article about it."

"An _article!?"_

"Shut up and let me read it, woman!" He yanked the paper off the table before I could grab it again.

Chamberlain chose that moment to appear from his bedroom. "Read what?"

"Argh!" My head dropped into my hands.

Spectus shooshed him and our mentor cleared his throat, "Last night's tribute parade was nothing short of mind blowing, and President Snow's address-blah, blah, blah...District 1's costumes cost-blah, blah, blah...erm, oh! Here we go: Two tributes, however, made quite the impression-and they're not from the same district, but neighboring ones. District 6's Nyxon Weaver and District 7's Axelus Creed left startling images in all our head-"

"How the_ fuck-"_

"Shhhh!" Spectus waved his hand irritably at me.

"...during their half hour of screen time. Both directed heated, bloodthirsty gazes at the cameras, no doubt warming up for this year's Games."

"Bullshit!"

Kendon continued over me this time, "The pair are lookers, too. With Creed's steamy edge and Weaver's siren-esk features, one can only hope for a team up in the Arena."

I gasped, my words coming out in a barely discernible splutter, "How-how _dare they!? _Siren-esk! The damned fools!"

"I fail to see what the problem is, here," Kendon set down the paper and folded his hands behind his head.

"The problem,_ Kendon_, is that they're painting me as a fucking _prostitute!"_ I was on my feet again, pointing furiously at the offending article. "_And_ they're acting like we're a "pair!" I've never even met Creed!"

His lips twitched in amusement, and I could see the dastardly idea form behind his eyes. "Oh, but you will..."

"Don't even think about it!"

"I'm you're mentor, Weaver. _I _tell _you_ what to do," Kendon challenged. "And I'm telling you to get to know this boy." He tapped his finger on the side of Creed's face. "It'll be a ball-buster. We'll get more sponsors in a half and hour than some get in the entire Games if they hear that you're talking to each other."

"Oh, we won't be," I assured him with a hiss.

"A-ha...actually, _yes_-you _will,_ Weaver. Unless you want me to convince the Gamemakers to kill you off immediately and focus on protecting Chamberlain."

Well, that was a threat if I ever did hear one.

My district partner seemed to like the idea.

"You forget-if they hear about a relationship between us, Axelus will get sponsors too," I managed to spit out.

"Undoubtedly. But when it comes to the Games, sponsors tend to prefer female tributes."

"Not when there are tributes that look like _him." _But I could tell it was useless. My protests were anything but heeded.

"You'll do as I say," Kendon warned, "or you'll die. Speak to him this morning in Training. And make it good."

**Chapter 9: Poison Dart**

**I know, I know-a lot of updates for one day. What can I say? It's a holiday and I'm inspired. :D Listen to:**

**Fine Again - Seether**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**Poison Dart**_

The training room was about as daunting as the terminal before the parade-more, even.

Now I could see the eyes, the faces of all the tributes I was supposed to murder, and it made it all real for what seemed like the first time.

I ignored Kendon's command for the first hour we were left to wander about, waiting for the training instructors to arrive. What else was I supposed to do?

I went straight to my brother.

"Carson," I whispered tentatively, and he whirled around to face me, big brown eyes settling on my face. They were red and swollen-he'd probably been crying half the night.

"Nyx?" His voice trembled, and seconds later he'd thrown himself at me, arms constricting in one of those bear hugs I used to love as a child, growing up with him. "I knew you'd come for me! Wh-when can we leave?"

I froze.

So no one had told him?

Those heartless bastards!

His tears were staining my training shirt and we were getting a lot of weird looks from the other tributes-except for Axelus, who was thankfully absent.

I sank down into a crouch before his little body-he was short for his age-and reached up to wipe away his tears with my thumbs.

"Hey, Mulecart...why are you crying?" The childhood nickname only seemed to make him cry harder. And I didn't like this...he was making himself look weaker to the other tributes. "Calm down, bud."

"I want to go home," he sobbed, clutching at me again. "Please take me home!"

"Honey," I sighed, pulling him away from me again so we could speak eye to eye, "did you watch the other Reapings?"

He shook his head, "No..."

I grabbed his small hand, "Well, we're in this together, alright? We can't go home until we play the game like they want us to."

"But-"

"No buts, Carson. I volunteered so I could be here with you, and we're going to get through this. I promise. You _will _see your mommy again."

Notice how I didn't say _our_ mommy.

This seemed to calm him down the slightest bit, but there was horror in his eyes when he looked at me again, "You're in the Games?"

I nodded slowly, trying to seem nonchalant about it. "I'm in the Games."

I couldn't _believe_ no one had told him.

"Alright, listen handsome. Today's a good opportunity for you to learn a few things. Why don't you walk around with me and see some demonstrations? I'll teach you how to throw a spear. Sound good?"

He nodded, trying fiercely to wipe away more of the tears.

"Remember, you've got to stand tall. Head high-do as I do. Walk like I do. You'll be just fine."

He nodded again, this time with more fervor.

"Good," I flashed him a fake, but convincing (I thought) smile. "Let's go."

I held out my hand to him just as a female tribute from one of the Career districts-2, I think-sneered at us. "How sweet. Do you take him to the bathroom too?"

I watched Carson's lip wobble and turned back to her in anger.

"No-I promised just to help you do that, remember?"

There was a tense silence-and then Carson burst out laughing. A few other tributes who had heard my retort laughed with him, and soon the room was staring at us in confusion, trying to understand what exactly was so funny.

As the laughter died down, I whispered in my brother's ear, "Remember-stand tall. Ignore her."

The trainers finally arrived, and just in time too, because it looked like that Career girl was ready to rip my head off. I'd later learn that her name was Helsey-and that she would meet one of the most gruesome deaths in the Games.

Karma, I guess.

A long speech was made about proper training tactics, and how we couldn't attack fellow tributes. All things I'd heard before.

One of the back doors opened noisily just as the speech was ending, and Axelus strode in, comfortably late.

I rolled my eyes.

"Right..." one of the trainers said, eyeing him warily, "on that note, let's begin. Pick a station. It may benefit you to travel in small groups."

"Where do you want to go first?" I asked Carson as the tributes dispersed around the room, the Career-types predictably going for the more lethal weapons.

Axelus, I noticed, went another direction-heading toward the poisonous dart table and taking a seat. The station manager launched into a monologue about toxic needles, and he nodded to look as if he was listening.

"I don't know-something unscary," Carson whispered.

"Not sure that's a word, dork." I scanned the room, but there seemed to be no better alternative. I sighed. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. "Let's go to the darts station."

The trainer looked dumbfounded that more than one tribute had come to see him first.

"Oh, goodness!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, what are you interested in? Lethal? Maiming? Delusional?"

Axelus eyed me curiously, and I felt all hot and sticky under his scrutiny.

"How about aphrodisiacs?" he asked, a smirk manipulating his face, still directed at me.

I scoffed, and Carson looked up from surveying the darts, "What are afrodeesacs?"

God-his mother was such a prude. I remembered her avoiding the topic of sex at all costs back when she was still my parent.

My father had explained it to me during our first week in 6. And it was quick and painless.

Right now, I wished more than anything that Carson just knew Axelus was being gross so we could drop the subject.

"Nothing important," I muttered, glaring at the other tribute. He smiled his perfect smile.

The trainer's brows knit together, "I-uh-I honestly don't think I do. There's never been any need for-"

"He's just being an ass," I cut him off, and Carson gaped at me, causing me to quickly add, "Sorry, bud."

Creed's grin only widened, and he smoothly reached out his hand to me. "Axel."

It wasn't hard to tell this wasn't a friendly gesture. He was plotting my demise behind those blue orbs-and he wasn't trying to hide it.

I eyed his hand for a long while, trying to look as if I didn't want to touch it, when really I was worried I would blush like mad.

Finally, I took it in my seemingly sweaty palm. "Nyxon."

**Chapter 10: More Like Bludgeoned**

**God, I must be insane! I just really want to get to some spicy stuff today :) Know what I mean? ;) Listen to:**

**Boyfriend - Issues (This version is REALLY REALLY GOOD!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Ten**_

_**More Like Bludgeoned**_

The training day was rather uneventful-which was strange, considering we were going into the Arena not one week from then. The Games would start at 10:00 sharp, the next Monday morning.

Many of the tributes were easy to figure out from that first day. The Career districts were once again 1, 2, and 4. Chamberlain was in with them, though. I could tell.

The underdogs probably consisted of my brother, Districts 3 and 5 and everything up from 8 after that. Except for one boy from 9. His name was Magnus-and he looked like he had something up his sleeve.

Axel-well, I had no idea what Axel was capable of. He did literally nothing but sit around all day.

I, at least, learned how to make some traps.

Carson was doing fine, so long as he followed in my footsteps. I was careful not to intimidate him by knowing too much about certain things, so we took matters very slowly.

And that was all.

See what I mean by uneventful?

Add to that the fucking_ ball _was the following night. A relatively new thing, I heard. All the tributes were to attend, as well as the wealthiest sponsors. By 7:00 tomorrow night, the dining hall would be transformed into a massive ballroom and crowded with hundreds of guests.

It was the last thing I wanted at the moment.

To dance.

Dance meant celebration, and this was certainly not a celebration.

I glanced around the hall, wondering what it would look like in the next 24 hours. Carson was gorging himself on some sort of meat pie, which was a good thing, I suppose. He could use the extra weight.

I couldn't bring myself to eat anything, it seemed, so I just sat there, staring off into space.

Or, at least I _did, _until Axel came up behind me.

"What the _fuck _is this?!" he roared, slamming down a copy of the Capital newspaper. I jumped, startled, and Carson dropped his fork.

Every pair of eyes in the room shot to us immediately.

I glanced down at the picture of us and grimaced before turning to glare at him, "How the hell should I know? I was as surprised as you are."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" He grabbed me roughly by the arm, but I yanked away, as if burned.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted, getting to my feet. "I had nothing to do with this! I was furious when I found out!"

"Oh? But you didn't bother to tell me, did you? No-no, that part just slipped your mind, didn't it?" He was right in my face, daring me to react.

"News flash: I don't give a flying fuck about you, 7!" I ignored my brother's gasp. "We're here for one reason-and you know what it is."

"Damn you, bitch-" he growled. "I _know_ it was you. God, the way you've been looking at me. It's fucking pathetic! Of course it was your idea! You just wanted your shining moment by my side!"

"You son of a-"

"I want _nothing _to do with you in that arena, Weaver," he seethed. "If I so much as hear the fucking word "alliance," I'll tear you apart."

"Oh, whatever shall I do?" I mocked, fluttering my eyelashes. "Get a goddamn grip, asshole. Not every girl in this world wants you!"

He scoffed, "As if _anyone _could _ever _want you-you stupid, manipulative little cunt!"

A collective gasp sounded around the room-but I only heard half of it.

The other half was drowned out by the sound of my fist cracking against his jaw.

There were actually some yelps from female escorts and stylists.

Axel staggered into the table, breaking some glasses and upsetting a bowl of punch. He clutched his jaw tightly, eyes trained on me with so much rage-so much hate. But there was also something else there.

Something I couldn't quite figure out.

Carson swallowed, staring up at me, "What's a-"

"_Don't-"_ I bellowed, "ask me what it means! We're leaving."

I moved swiftly around the table, grabbed my brother's wrist and towed him out of the dining hall, leaving the gawking audience behind.

I was fuming so violently that I pressed every button in the elevator, pacing angrily back and forth inside the car while Carson watched, aghast.

"Is it really that bad?" he whispered, presumably trying not to upset me further.

"Yes-that bad," I replied in a clipped tone.

Finally, after five stops, we arrived on my floor and I charged down the hallway to my room, keeping tight hold of Carson's hand all the way.

When I burst into the foyer, Kendon looked up from his paper. "How'd it go with 7? Your brother's not supposed to be up here, by the way."

"He's staying!" I hissed, dragging him through the room.

"Suit yourself."

Not twenty seconds later, a harsh pounding sounded on the front door.

"MacMillan!" an angry voice shouted from the other side. "Open the god damn door!"

Kendon sighed, setting down the paper and heading toward entrance, "This ought to be fun."

The door opened and a man I didn't recognize strode in, unauthorized. He took one glance at me, glared heavily and pointed, _"YOU."_

"Yes, she's very pretty, isn't she?" Kendon mocked.

"Don't play games with me! She assaulted my tribute!"

My mentor raised an eyebrow. "Did she now? Well, that's natural. Cat fights are bound to happen now and again-"

"I'm not talking about the _girl."_

Kendon's light expression darkened, and he turned his gaze on me, "She hit Creed?"

"_Bludgeoned_ is more the word I'm looking for!" the man raved.

"Oh, please-he's a big boy. He can take a punch," I spat.

"I want her OUT OF THESE GAMES!"

"Get out, Bennet. I'll speak to her," Kendon said calmly, though his eyes were anything but.

"Like hell you will! You'll sweet talk her!"

"I assure you," he ground out, "I won't."

And I suddenly didn't want to be left alone with him.

But for safety reasons, as the furious man stormed out of the room, I whispered to Carson, "Go to my room, honey. My mentor and I have to _talk."_

**Chapter 11: Blame it on the Alcohol: Part One**

**Okay, next chapter packs all the heat, but this one's got a little of it. CAUTION: TEEN DRINKING. Listen to:**

**Champagne - Cavo**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eleven ~ Part One**_

_**Blame it on the Alcohol**_

I had never been slapped by a man before.

It was shocking, to say the least-and Kendon even seemed to regret it. But what's done is done, right?

I would probably hate him for the rest of my short life.

That wasn't all he did, either. He read me the Riot Act, yelling about how stupid I was and how this was all I had-these meager impressions in the Capital before the Games.

And because I was so angry, I didn't even bother telling him what Axel had called me. He didn't deserve to know. It would make it seem like I'd confided in him.

And, no...I would never do that.

When he finished, staring at me, half-crazed, I dipped into a low bow and turned away, heading to my room for Carson.

He saw the handprint on my face.

We cried in each other's arms that night-and I vowed it was the last time I'd ever cry again.

Tuesday morning came and went, like a couple of trees before a speeding car's window. By noon, my prep team was upon me, followed by Tavian-who was one of the last people I wanted to see, but the list was steadily growing.

They'd shooed my brother from the room, telling him to go back to his floor to get ready.

Oh, right.

That ball.

Perfect. Just perfect. I would've loved nothing more than to dunk my head in a bucket of ice water and leave it there for all eternity.

But no, no...my prep team wouldn't allow it. They were at me for_ hours,_ and I mean this literally, combing my hair, painting my nails, waxing my legs for god knows what reason...

And part of me wanted to tell them the truth-that I wasn't going-just to see their faces.

But I wasn't nearly that cruel. I let them have their fun with me and, remarkably, didn't voice one complaint the entire time. Inwardly, of course, I had about a million.

_Stop pulling so hard._

_God, you ripped it all off __ages__ ago!_

_Who the fuck is even going to see this part of my body?!_

But-such is life.

When they were finished, it was about 6:30 in the evening, and I was yawning.

I really should've told them this was all for not. Maybe I could've gotten a few more hours of sleep.

But, I suppose...the satisfaction I got from my reflection made it at least a little bit worth it.

My dark hair was curled loosely, as if natural, and tumbling gracefully down my back. They'd accented my eyes with green hues, but just a touch. My lips were glossed in something dark-almost bruised-looking...and I adored it.

As for my dress, well...

Let's just say it was my style.

It was platinum, shining in the room's lamplight, and the bodice went from chest to mid thigh. It was pleated in a diamond pattern, cross-stitched for a sleek, modern look. There were no sleeves, save a black feathered strap, like a boa, that crossed over my right shoulder, and the skirt was a shiny as a silver coin, flowing to the floor.

Alright, so maybe a small part of me wanted to go now, just to see who I could impress-

N_o!_ I wouldn't let my guard down! I had made my decision hours ago!

But the dress was beautiful. Simple as that.

"You look stunning!" one of my team cried for the umpteenth time.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Well, you better get going! You don't want to be late!"

They giggled and smiled and winked as they pushed me out the door, and I tried to act equally enthused-but the moment I was out of sight, I ripped off the silver stilettos.

Women killers!

The glass elevator was lit only by the Capital's lights as I traveled to the only place I was certain I'd be safe.

Well, at least-_partly_ certain.

The roof.

Because of that special, anti-suicide technology they'd placed on it, they didn't bother locking the door. Hell, it was even ajar-as if daring a tribute to try it.

I realized too late that that wasn't why it was open.

As I swept carelessly out the door and onto the roof, I found my enemy, seated on the ledge overlooking the city, surrounded by seven or eight sinister looking bottles. He too was dressed in ball attire, a nice black tux with an even darker undershirt and slacks. But the top four buttons of his shirt were undone, flashing that perfect, tan chest once more.

_Damn it all to hell!_

Could I never escape him?

Axel glanced up at me, and I could tell by his eyes that he wasn't quite drunk yet-just a little tipsy.

I clenched my hand into a fist at my side and turned swiftly to leave.

"Nyxon..." he singsonged. I froze at the door-but I know now that I should've just gone through it.

"I won't call you a cunt again, if that's what you're afraid of," he said, tossing back another shot of whatever it was he was drinking.

I whirled around, glaring, "You just did."

He rose a brow, "Did I? Sorry, love. Old habits die hard."

"Oh?" I stalked toward him, hands on my hips, "And I suppose you're just in the _habit _of calling women the most astoundingly cruel word in the English dictionary?"

He glanced up at me again, smirking this time. "Nah-just you."

I gasped, at a loss for words but trying to voice my incredulity nonetheless. "You-I-you-"

"Sit down," he coaxed. "Have a drink with me."

"As tempting as the offer is..."

"Don't bullshit me, Weaver. We both know you could use a few drops," and he shook the bottle tantalizingly just for good measure.

I hesitated, looking over my shoulder at the door.

But he was right.

I longed for something to distract me this evening.

And, I don't know-maybe a small part of me also wanted to spite Kendon, the bastard.

One way or another, I ended up collapsing next to him and taking a bottle of Capital rum from the inventory before us.

"Where the hell did you get all this?" I whispered, taking my first sip. It was deliciously strong. Instantly, I knocked back another.

"The Gamemakers' private liquor cabinet," he answered easily, leaning back against the wall.

I gaped at him, nearly spitting out the alcohol.

"No...no, no, no...you _didn't."_

"I promise you, sweetheart," he nodded, eyes growing blearier by the second.

"You couldn't _possibly_ have-"

"I swear on the loss of my virginity to-fuck, what was her name? Liza...Lisa...Gertrude? Hell, I don't fucking remember." He shrugged, taking a generous taste of a new bottle of Vodka.

I couldn't help it.

I laughed.

He gazed sideways at me suddenly, and in an instant, I was entranced by his eyes.

Our stare seemed to last several minutes, but maybe it was only half a second. Then he said, "Cheers," and raised his bottle.

I clunked mine against it and drank.

I drank and drank and drank.

_We_ drank.

We drank to the point of deranged laughter and stupid stories.

We drank past that.

We drank until he got clumsily to his feet, turning around unsteadily and holding out his hand, "Dance with me."

Okay-we were beyond drunk...because I took his hand.

Starting off with a sort of absurd waltz, we paraded around the roof, cackling and tripping and falling over several times. He stepped on my dress and I stepped on his shoes.

Somewhere during our attempt at a tango-or was it a salsa?-he leaned down and whispered in my ear. At the time, I didn't hear him.

But I remembered it in the morning.

"You look beautiful tonight."

We laughed more fiercely when he dipped me, and I grew dizzier with every movement.

Then he said, "What do you say? Shall we take this little party downstairs? Show them how it's done?"

I hummed my assent against his shoulder, shortly before shouting, "Race you!" and taking off.

God, we were like five-year-olds.

It felt like we were sprinting at an impossible, awesome speed, but I bet, from a third party's perspective, we were actually ramming into walls and falling all over ourselves.

He caught me about halfway to the ballroom, crowding me into the elevator and pressing me against the back wall.

He would probably say that our first true connection happened on the dance floor about ten minutes later, but I knew the truth.

It had been right then, as we'd stood so close together, unmoving, unspeaking-just waiting for the car to arrive on the ground floor.

His eyes never left mine.

**Chapter 12: Blame it on the Alcohol: Part Two**

**Alright, CAUTION: SEXUAL CONTENT (Don't get TOO excited.) Listen to:**

**The Line Begins to Blur - Nine Inch Nails (OKAY THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT! THIS IS THE SONG THEY ARE DANCING TO IN THE CHAPTER! I REALLY MUST INSIST THAT YOU LISTEN! YOU'LL MISS OUT ON THE SEXINESS IF YOU DON'T!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eleven ~ Part Two**_

_**Blame it on the Alcohol**_

Everyone stared. How could they possibly not? We'd burst in so loudly, laughing and swaying on our feet, that we'd upset their dance. Axel was clutching my hand tightly, pulling me to the center of the room.

Carson looked absolutely flabbergasted at our intimate connection. After all, everyone had seen me punch him.

Which reminds me-the bruise on his face. I vaguely remember seeing it that night, but it was faint, as if he'd covered it with something.

The Capital citizens gaped at us as we took control of the room with our presence. The soft, innocent music in the background continued to play, but no one started dancing again.

"Come on!" Axel called, spinning me in a quick circle. "Play something heavier!"

There was a long hesitation-and then the music stopped.

My hand started to tremble in his. Would they punish us? Torture us, even?

The alcohol was started to wear off, worry setting in.

But then a dark, sultry tune flooded from wherever the music originated, and Axel turned to me with a wicked grin.

He drew me slowly, _ever so_ slowly, against his chest as the_ thrum, thrum, thrum_ of the music vibrated through us. His long, calloused fingers slipped down my bare arms before skipping off to graze my hips.

And I looked up and caught his stare.

A man had never looked at me this way until now. Never bore such a deep, wanton emotion in his eyes. It made me suck in a sharp breath.

"Dance with me again?" he whispered, but this time the words were not humorous. No, he had _breathed _them, sensually, against my skin.

I could only bring myself to give the slightest of nods. I was becoming unhinged again, like the first night I saw him on the train.

"Thank god," he hissed against my cheek, and then, without giving me a chance to react, yanked me close and pressed our hips together.

I gasped, eyes growing wild and-

_Flash!_

A camera clicked from somewhere in the crowd, and my senses came swimming back to me.

I tried to pull away.

"Axel..." I warned when he didn't let me go, "they'll see." And I risked a glance in his eyes again.

The clear sheen was gone. He was no longer drunk.

Neither of us were.

His nose brushed against my temple as he nestled his lips to my ear and whispered so quietly, so deliberately, _"Fuck them."_

And then he did something that broke my resolve.

He nibbled at my earlobe...

...and dragged it down with his teeth.

I shuddered, suddenly breathless, and made up my mind that this night was for me-for _us_...that we would damn well enjoy it.

So I threw my arms around his neck and moved my hips with his, if only the slightest bit.

_"Is there somebody on top of me?" _the singer purred.

Axel sighed, warm breath blazing over my skin, and finally succumbed to the low, pounding beat.

He ground against me tentatively at first, as if savoring every second, and I allowed myself to melt into the heat of his body.

_"I don't know, I don't know..."_

When he felt me relax, he ground a little harder-and the friction was delicious.

I became suddenly hyper-aware...

Of his breaths coming in short, ragged pants...

Of the hardness I felt pressing against my stomach...

Of the molten liquid pooling in my underwear...

Oh god-what was he doing to me? This was too soon! Much too soon!

_Oh_, but _so wonderful._

_"Isn't anybody stopping me?"_

I gripped the lapels of his jacket and forced it off his shoulders. Licking his lips, his fingers dug deeper into my hips, and he suddenly scraped us together in a way that made me moan softly in his ear.

My fingers trailed down from his neck to the front of his shirt, slipping into the unbuttoned section to feel him.

_"I don't know, I don't know..."_

He was so _smooth..._and his heartbeat was like an erotic drum, pulsing against my palm.

I sensed the other guests crowding back around us, beginning to dance again. A few of them were actually cheering us on...

A wolfish smile appeared on Axel's face, and without warning, he took hold of my thigh and yanked it up around his hip, dipping my upper half back to hang before him.

My curls brushed the marble floor as he snaked a heavy hand up my ribcage and between my breasts, splaying me out for all to see.

Some of the girls in the crowd actually whimpered.

Seconds later, he flung me back up, our faces inches apart, and stopped our movement altogether as the music started to climb toward a massive crescendo.

I waited.

I waited and waited and waited for him to do something.

But his lips just got closer, a millimeter a minute, it felt like.

_"I'm trying to hold my breath..."_

And then, just as his mouth ghosted over mine, he spun me around, pressing my hind against him so that I could feel his firm erection.

I groaned loudly, and the crowd gasped.

They must've finally realized this was more than just a dance.

_"I don't know, I don't know..."_

Our hips gyrated together, grinding in circles to the beat as we swayed in such an erotic fashion it made my head spin. With every pound of the drum, his hands moved higher up my body, striving for my breasts but never quite seeming to make it.

His lips danced across the nape of my neck with a longing before skating a burning path to the curve of my naked shoulder.

Then he spun me away again, before I was satisfied, and I almost collapsed from sexual dizziness.

I turned to face him, the two of us standing about three yards apart, flustered.

_"Just how far down can I go?"_

He slowly rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.

The crowd was practically panting for us to continue now, but the few fellow tributes I could spot were staring daggers.

Axel approached like a predator-and I should've known...

He could always be counted on to do something unexpected.

Sinking to his knees before me, he grabbed at the backs of my thighs and drew me up against him, his mouth mere inches away from the apex of my legs.

Color flooded to my already flushed cheeks.

I could hear the audience scream their assent, cameras flashing at every turn, when he pressed his lips to my abdomen, one arm curled around the small of my back to hold me to him.

I threw my head back and moaned.

Damn propriety.

Damn it all.

_"I don't know...I don't know...I don't know..."_

The song ended-and all I could think was _Too soon. Much too soon._

Dazed and panting, I collapsed in front of him and he wrapped both arms around me, still holding me slightly above him so that he had to look up.

He whispered huskily, "Come with me."

...and I was wrecked.


	5. The Black Easterling

Title: **The Black Easterling**

Category: Books » Lord of the Rings

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Published: 07-03-12, Updated: 04-14-13

Chapters: 11, Words: 9,434

**Chapter 1: Prologue: Hope in Darkness**

_Prologue: Hope in Darkness_

They say when the Elves were taken to Mordor, none escaped its darkness. They say they were changed, their minds tampered with and shown the ways of pain and cruelty. They say there was no hope.

But they were wrong.

I...I knew the hope.

Mordor is no place for women, but She-elves were taken as well. I, Iviandelle, was one of them-nearly crushed under Sauron's power. But women, as the Lady Galadriel taught me, are not as easily corrupted as men.

The dark staircase was slick with blood and sweat and soot as they dragged my companion Ikilla and I to the Great Eye. I remember it well. Thrown before Sauron, Ikilla died instantly-of terror, they say.

As I held her lifeless form in my arms, I was forced to look upon the monster-to look into the face of Sauron, the deceiver...and he did not frighten me.

My courage, my indifference, as he said, was what spared me. Was what provoked him to keep me alive, as a servant.

I would've been terrified. I would've thrown myself from one of the dark windows, would've died before I agreed...if I had not felt the strange feeling I was to be saved.

That I was to meet _him._

**Chapter 2: The Wraith**

_Chapter One_

_The Wraith_

I carried the strange, blood-red wine up the stairs silently, deep within wishing I was dead. My torn skirts tangled around my ankles, nearly tripping me several times.

An orc, one of the Uruk-hai, guarded the door, baring his teeth when he saw me.

"Ashdautas vrasubatlat," I spat. I'm fairly certain I told him I'd kill him someday in the language of the Orcs. He was silenced.

When I drew closer, he moved aside, offering a meager grunt to withhold his pride. My hands were slick with sweat as I opened the door. I was always sick with worry when I came to him.

To Lord Sauron, as his servant.

He was sitting on his throne, far too weak to get up, yet somehow not too weak shift himself so he rested his head on his hand, his face hidden by the dark helmet he wore as always.

I swept into a bow, remembering the punishment for the time I didn't-twelve lashings. He nodded at me, his signal I need only bring the wine to him and be gone.

A breath of relief washed through me, and I straightened, approaching cautiously and trying not to shake the platter carrying the wine. However, as I arranged the chalice on the marble table at his side, the door slammed open behind me and a darkly clothed man stormed into the room.

I gasped, nearly dropping the goblet.

_One of the Nine._

A Ringwraith was before me, striding casually into the hall as if he owed no respects to Sauron-no respects to anyone. He was so very tall, at least 6'8, and so menacing in his demeanor. Perhaps even more so than Sauron at that moment.

"The Ring is in the hands of a Halfling," he growled, his voice like eighty nails scratching on glass. The sound of it drove my very bones to quiver. It was distorted almost beyond saving, almost impossible to understand.

Lord Sauron shifted again, a dark sound coming from beneath his helmet.

I knew I had to leave-_immediately. _Before Lord Sauron grew angry.

I stepped down, forming a meager bow and hurrying to walk down the hall when the same, rough, gravelly voice sounded again, "Who is she? The She-elf?"

Sauron said nothing, only made a deep, moaning sort of noise within. The wraith took it as an answer.

"Did she not yield at the sight of you?"

Another low sound.

I'd stopped dead at this point, my back to both of them. A loud clang resounded against the marble walls as one of the rider's metal boots hit the floor.

He was walking toward me.

"I wonder-does she fear me?"

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. He must've only been a few feet behind me.

"Turn around, She-elf," he demanded, and I started, fingers shaking madly at my sides. But I obeyed, slowly swiveling around and casting my eyes downward, at the bottom of his dark, torn robes-so similar to my own. His sword was sheathed at his side, so long it almost touched the floor.

To my shock, he rose his large hand, metal glove sliding against my jaw. I had thought it would hurt...but it didn't. And then he tilted my chin upward.

I gasped.

I was staring into the black depths-the nothingness under his hood. No features, no eyes...no face. It was as if the hood was empty.

"Forgive me, my Lord, if I have offended you," I choked out, my voice a mere whimper.

When he spoke again, it was a less painful whisper-a hiss, "She is obedient, isn't she?"

Lord Sauron growled, and for the first time, I heard his voice.

It was worse than the wraith's. Somehow sickening.

"She will be useful."

"What is her name?" whispered the wraith.

When Sauron did not answer, I felt I had to. "Iviandelle, my Lord. My name is Iviandelle," and at that moment, I felt so weak...so worthless.

The wraith's hand released me and he took a large step back. I believed, had he eyes, they would've been studying me carefully.

"What do you want her for?"

Sauron chuckled darkly, a rumble that seemed to shake the walls, "I am glad you are here, Khamûl. This will work perfectly."

**Chapter 3: Strange Mercy**

_Chapter Two_

_Strange Mercy_

The tone in Lord Sauron's voice drove me to tremble with fear, and yet I could not move. Not a muscle. I was paralyzed before the wraith, incapable of speech.

"Fight the elf, Khamûl," said Sauron. My eyes widened with terror.

The wraith was still.

"I hear the elves are excellent warriors. I want her to prove it to me. What good is a useless servant when I could have a soldier in my grasp?"

The wraith rose his head, turning it only a fraction so he could see Sauron out the corner of his eye-if he had eyes. "She will not be able to fight me, my Lord. She will die."

I was shaking madly now.

"So be it," Sauron chuckled again. "If she cannot fight, she is no good to me."

The silver serving platter clattered to the floor in front of me and I contemplated running-but the Orc at the door would intercept me. I knew he would.

"Hastily now," Sauron coaxed, and the wraith, after a moment of hesitation, drew his long sword. The sound of metal on metal rung through the dark hall.

Sauron lifted his hand, and the Orc from outside came hurrying in, carrying a sheathed blade.

"Give it to the elf," said Sauron.

The Orc looked confused for a moment or two, then stumbled over to me, holding the sword out. I forced myself to lift my arm, to clasp my hand around the hilt.

It was heavier than the standard blades we elves used. More of a brute weapon. And I knew already I would lose this fight.

The wraith formed his stance, pulling back the sword and resting his free hand on the middle of the blade, aimed at my heart. I pulled my sword close, guarding my chest with it.

"Get on with it," Sauron growled. The wraith lunged, swinging the sword out in front of me and I stammered backward, my long curls falling loose. I tried to cross, tried to remember what I'd learned in all my years of training.

He rose the sword high above his head, and in a blind movement of defense, I sliced him straight across the gut.

He released a shrill, horrible cry, backing away and clutching his midsection.

And suddenly I had the upper hand.

We parried a long while, blow after blow of his sword against mine beginning to hurt, an ache in my shoulder blossoming. He was so strong, so quick...and yet, I felt he was not using his full potential.

_If he had wanted to kill me...I would be dead._

Sauron watched silently from his throne, never stopping us or commenting.

I would admit, I was good...but I knew I was not good enough. And when finally the wraith grew tired, he slammed his blade down on mine and I collapsed under the weight of it.

He towered above me, poising the sword to strike the final blow.

Sauron sat up.

And then the strangest of things happened. His back to Sauron, he opened his arms wide, as if presenting himself as a target to me.

I gaped at him.

He nodded almost incomprehensibly at me, and I took up my sword, turned it around and slammed the hilt into his stomach.

He doubled over, stumbling back and falling to his knees.

"I yield," he whispered.

Sauron began to clap, slowly, derisively, and I was sure his cold eyes bore into mine.

"Very good," he laughed, "very good..."

The wraith slowly got to his feet, sheathing his sword and turning away from me, walking to one of the small, dark windows and looking out through it.

"Khamûl," Sauron turned to look at him.

"Yes, my Lord?" the wraith asked quietly.

"You are tracking the halfling, are you not?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Sauron must've been smiling, "Take this one with you when next you ride."

I gasped inaudibly, dropping my sword, but was paid no mind.

"She will run away, my Lord."

"And you will kill her when she does."

The wraith glanced at me, clutching his gut with one of his gloved hands, "Yes, my Lord." He was not pleased.

"Leave me," Sauron commanded. "Both of you."

And I ran.

**Chapter 4: Dreams**

_Chapter Three_

_Dreams_

My quarters, as they were called, were a small room in a high tower, secluded from all else in Lord Sauron's empire—in Mordor. Secretly, I was grateful for this. As miniscule, dark and damp as it was, it was an escape for me.

But not this night.

This night, as I stumbled sickly into bed, still fully clothed, I was haunted. Haunted by nightmares of the wraith. Of Khamûl, as Sauron had named him.

Although…they weren't nightmares. Not _really._

I dreamt of his towering form, cloaked and menacing, standing before me as I cowered helplessly, backed into a corner. He had taken a step toward me, and while I whimpered, he slipped off one of his metal gloves, slowly extending his bare hand.

There were bruises all along it, but what had surprised me was the texture. I'm not sure what I'd expected, but certainly not the skin of a humanoid—the skin of man, an elf, a dwarf. The skin of a form with a soul, not the skin of a monster.

I dreamt his hand had touched my cheek, the cold seeping through as it slowly caressed my jaw. I dreamt I had caught a glimpse of his own jaw…humanoid, like his hands, and then I had thrown myself into wakefulness.

The dark morning sky shed no light through my small window, though it never did, and I lay shaking on the bed, clothes drenched with cold sweat.

This was the day I was to ride with the Nine.

I had seen them ride only once in my lifetime—and it had been a dark day, that day. They were so fast, so brutally determined.

_What if I cannot keep up? What if I fall behind and they—_

A harsh pound on my door startled me. I slipped off the bed, drawing my skirts around me to hide my exposed chest, the fabric transparent due to the moisture.

It was a goblin, completely filthy and covered in dried man's blood. He smiled evilly at me, black teeth visible under chapped lips, and croaked, "The Witch King demands your presence."

Rashly, I inquired, "Oh…is that Khamûl?"

The goblin glared at me, growling, "You dare speak the name of a Nazgul? One of the honored Nine?" and he spat at my feet. "Get downstairs before I have my way with you!"

He slammed the door in my face.

When I had clothed in preparation for a long ride as best I could, I slowly descended the narrow, winding staircase.

Before I had reached the bottom, I could hear them. The Nine.

They were hissing at one another with hushed, gravelly voices, and I stopped to listen, though I shouldn't have.

"Why didn't you kill her? You are far stronger!"

"She has more power than you think," countered the only voice I recognized. That must've been Khamûl. "She's faster than I am—smaller."

A sword was drawn.

"Don't make that mistake again, Uvatha," said Khamûl.

When I heard a second sword drawn, I hurried to the foot of the stairs, hoping to prevent a fight.

And I did—oh, I did indeed.

Every dark, hooded face turned in my direction. I recognized Khamûl, for he was one of the tallest ones, and had his sword unsheathed, a protective hand guarding his stomach—where I'd sliced him.

The other with a blade was fairly short, still taller than me though, and laughed quietly, "Oh…this is why…"

Khamûl growled.

"And I thought you had finally grown a thicker skin—I thought you were finally immune," continued the other wraith. The one called Uvatha.

He approached me, holding out his gloved hand and brushing the metal over my neck, lifting my chin.

"She's pretty…" and he laughed again.

Loud, heavy footsteps sounded from further down the dark hall, and the wraith suddenly pulled away, joining the others who'd all backed up, heads bowed.

There were only eight of them.

But that was because the ninth was coming down the hall, massive, cloaked, and completely terrifying.

The Witch King.

**Chapter 5: All Aflutter**

_Chapter Four_

_All Aflutter_

"You will lead us to the Halfling, She-elf."

His voice—oh, it was an earthquake—a nightmare to behold. I squeezed my eyes shut at the sound of it.

How? How could I lead them? I was no tracker—an elf, yes, but not a hunter.

The Nine swept into a breathtaking, unified line, steps syncopated as they headed toward the tall, black doors—the ones that lead to the scorched grounds of Mordor.

I knew better than to hesitate. I hurried after them, wringing my hands together and taking deep, steadying breaths.

The doors screeched open, a wave of heat breaking against me as the hot lands ahead came into view. No greenery, no life…only fire, ember, Orc…

It was a horror to my eyes.

I forced myself to follow, directing my gaze instead at the sway of the wraiths' dark cloaks as they walked, the glint of their metal boots.

I could feel a great light on my back, a harsh, brilliant orange—the Great Eye—but I did not dare turn around to face it. It was upon me because I was of a race that did not belong in Mordor. All that saved me was Sauron's wishes….which wasn't much of anything really.

Deep within, I was certain I was being prepared to die.

Several Orcs stared as I passed, and I kept my eyes downcast.

"Ah…Elven flesh!" remarked one, a Uruk-hai. He formed a hideous leer at me and I looked away quickly. "Such thin, fair skin…"

I moved to the left, further from the Orcs, trying still to keep my pace with the wraiths.

"I think I'll keep this one!"

It happened so fast. The Orc's hand had only just come down on my shoulder when Khamûl whirled around, cloak flying out behind him, drew his sword and cut the Orc's throat.

His blackish blood splattered over me, the horrid stench of the carnage traveling around, and he collapsed at my feet.

"You will walk beside me," Khamûl demanded, looking so powerful before me, and I nodded at once, all too willing.

I had decided early on, I would rather endure a wraith than an Orc. Orcs were filthy, vulgar creatures. Wraiths tended to be silent—though they were dangerous—and went about their business in a stealthy, secretive way I could not help but admire a little.

I took my place next to Khamûl's towering body, having broken up their perfect line, and again focused on steadying my breathing.

I was conscious of the Witch King's gaze on me, thought I heard him growl, and edged a little closer to Khamul.

Now I began to realize how utterly ridiculous I was being. Khamul was a wraith, perhaps one of the most brutal and dangerous of them all, and yet I had the strangest, most uncontrollable nerve to feel safe around him.

_He could kill you in an instant_, I reminded myself, but couldn't help stealing a glance up at him.

So tall…so strong…so—

_Absolutely out of the question!_

I was screaming at myself now, trying to regain control over my head.

The horses were tied just outside the Black Gates, an extra one provided for me. The Nine began to mount the tall, dark horses easily, their red eyes gleaming in the Great Eye's light.

I hesitated in front of mine, then grabbed the reigns and thrust myself upward, mounting it after a bit of trouble.

But it seemed I'd only just settled atop it when it began to buck beneath me, kicking its legs and whinnying like it were being repeatedly burned. I tried to steady it, yanked on the reigns, but it began to jump, thrashing its head and jerking me around.

And then it threw me off its back.

I tumbled to the ground, slamming down on my spine, and the air was knocked from my lungs. Staring up at the dark, smoky sky, I became sure they were going to kill me now.

I was incompetent. I could not ride.

"It knows she is not a wraith," remarked one of the Nine from above me, his scratchy voice full of wonder.

The Witch King uttered a string of dark curses, then barked, "You are fond of the elf, are you not, Khamûl? She will ride with you."

I closed my eyes.

_No, no…please, no…_

I was lifted from the ground abruptly, the air coming back in a powerful gust and forcing me to cough and choke.

Khamûl set me on his horse, but the movement was strange—gentle.

No, I was only imagining things!

He mounted behind me wordlessly, his body pressing against mine and causing a chill to race through my skin.

I was certain I'd stopped breathing again…terrified that I'd felt my heart flutter.

Felt it flutter for _him._

**Chapter 6: Black Hearts & Black Souls**

_Chapter Five_

_Black Hearts & Black Souls_

"She is useless," growled the Witch King. "We are lost."

"I smell no man-flesh...no Orc. The area is deserted," said another.

I had been growing increasingly nervous. Perhaps even more so than when I was in front of Sauron. They were realizing I was slowing them down-I was the reason they would be punished upon their return.

And I felt the sudden urge to defend myself, "Fangorn will deplete about a mile to the left," i whispered. Eight dark hoods snapped to me instantly, and I was sure Khamul's did. His breathing had hitched, the rise of his chest stuttering against my back.

"It-It would've been better had we come from your homeland-" I added fiercely, struggling to hold my nerve.

"What?" the Witch King hissed, and I flinched.

"You reside in Minus Morgul, do you not?"

One of them rasped out a laugh, "She knows more than she lets on..."

"But how much more? Can you smell halfling?" the Witch King asked.

"Hobbit?" my brow furrowed, "No, certainly not."

He spurred his horse and it moved closer to Khamul's, "Are you so sure?"

"Yes," I breathed, looking away, down at my hands, anywhere but that dark abyss."Do you have faces?" It was out before I could stop myself and I flushed brightly, feeling the fear brew in the pit of my stomach as the Witch King hesitated.

I would certainly die now.

"Perhaps we should just leave her," he ground out. "She is nothing to me."

Some of the riders turned their horses in anticipation.

"Khamul?" he addressed sharply, "You're the protector...should we get rid of her?"

Khamul's metal gloves gripped the reigns tighter, "It would be wiser to leave her."

My breathing quite literally stopped. He would leave me? But I thought-

_You imbecile! _My subconscious raged. _Wraiths have no empathy-black hearts-black souls. Only._

"Very well," The Witch King held out a sharp dagger, ignoring my gasp, "Slit her throat."

Khamul's hands didn't leave the reigns. "It would be more beneficial to _leave_ her," he pressed, repeating himself forcefully.

"I strongly disagree. Besides, I want to see this one bleed."

I tensed, leaning further back into Khamul and stuttering out a hopeless, "No...p-please..."

The Witch King cackled roughly, and I could almost feel the rumble in my chest. But Khamul remained as still as stone.

"Very well...I shall do it," and the leading wraith came toward me, knife raised.

"I smell it!" I cried, my voice echoing off the trees as I squeezed my eyes shut. The Witch King paused.

"What?"

"I smell...the Halfing."

And what was perhaps the strangest was that I really did...

"It's...it's leaving the Shire, I think. It's heading away from Hobbiton."

I didn't expect the Witch King to react like he did. He whipped the horse so it charged forward, knocking into Khamul's, and grasped me by my hair, yanking my head up, "_Do you speak the truth?"_

"I-yes-_please,_ my lord..."

"If you betray me, I will peel the flesh from your-"

"There is no need to threaten her like that," Khamul's voice cut in, and I became truly aware of his strange power over me. His voice was like nails, it was true, but it was angelic compared to the Witch King's. I felt myself push even _further _back, slipping into what I believed was a sick excuse for comfort...but by Galadriel, I craved it.

"What did you say?" The Witch King seethed.

"Your empty threats get us nowhere. If you continue to ridicule our covenant, I will claim what was rightfully mine to begin with."

No one spoke. I had never expected _that _from Khamul. He seemed somehow submissive compared to the other wraiths...and what did he mean, _what was rightfully mine...? _What was?

"Point us in the direction, She-elf," he murmured softly in my ear, and a shiver ran down my spine. I tried with all my being to convince myself it was the bad kind of shiver.

"S-Southeast," I whimpered, feeling just about ready to fall off that horse, if it weren't for his thighs holding me in place.

His thighs...

I groaned inwardly. I needed to escape somehow.

This could only end in death.

**Chapter 7: Taking His Hand**

**I apologize to all readers who had to wait these long months for this chapter. I have been convinced by a wonderful fan to continue this story.**

_~Dedicated to XxxGamer GirlxxX (A.K.A. Steele-thanks hon :) )_

_Chapter Six_

_Taking His Hand_

The Nine rode relentlessly.

I could barely hold on to Khamul's horse, much less focus on the halfling's scent. But they seemed to trust my earlier judgement-Galadriel knows for what reason-and continued southeast.

We were nearing the Shire, one of the few places in Middle Earth I'd never been. Our kind tended to disturb the peace of hobbits.

The grass became steadily greener, and the trees depleted, opening up to a wide expanse of land. The skies darkened with night's cool air and clouds misted over the moon.

Soon, the only things I could see were the black horizon and the shadows of the wraith's cloaks flowing behind their horses.

I felt the need to offer my assistance-I was beginning to feel expendable again.

"The halfling's scent is clearer now. It's close by."

But my voice was so meek, only Khamul could hear.

"Aye," he whispered, and a shiver ran up my spine, his cold breath whistling in my ear. "Though you may catch its scent, we can sense the Ring."

My breath caught.

I really _was_ useless.

Khamul said something unexpected then. Words I'd never thought he'd say. "Fear not, She-elf. Our Witch King shan't kill you."

An unfamiliar comfort washed through my veins, soaking me in a calm I hadn't felt for ages. And it's feelings like these that make one do the rashest things...

I took Khamul's hand in mine, feeling it instantly stiffen around the horse's reigns.

I began to speak, but lost my words. Clearing my throat, I tried again, "I-I cannot begin to thank you...for sparing my life."

His body went very still behind me, and I heard the horse whine in confusion.

I kept on, nonetheless, "But I can no longer expect you to protect me. If I must die, then I must die. I will defend my honor before I assist this cause."

And I briefly realized I'd just proclaimed my own death sentence.

Khamul said nothing for the longest time, and as we rode on through the Shire's rolling hills, I began to think he would say nothing at all.

But then his grip tightened on the leather strap guiding the horse and his damnably muscular thighs squeezed against mine.

"I am not in the habit of slaying elven women," he said quietly.

Elven women..._elven women! _Not she-elves. Somewhere deep inside, I felt his resolve might be breaking.

And, as if that wasn't enough, he added, "They are too fair. Our Witch KIng may think differently, but I will spill not a drop of your blood." A heavy hiss resonated in my ears-perhaps a sigh. "It would be a waste."

Anything I could've possibly said in response was obliterated when the leading horse ahead of us ground to a halt.

I gasped, pressing myself into Khamul.

And Galadriel help me, I heard him growl.

Squinting into the dark, I recognized the rounded top of a hobbit hole-akin to the drawings I'd seen in our elven records. A small thing, only a hobbit, stood in the doorway, a dog barking loudly behind him.

I could see the Witch King's hood ripple with each word he spoke, but could hear none of it.

The little hobbit was quivering, but he shouted clearly enough, "No-no, Baggins is not here! They're up in Hobbiton..._that way!"_

I had not a chance to prepare myself. In perfect unison, the Nine reared their horses and barreled forth, on down the dark roads toward the heart of the Shire.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw the poor hobbit sag against his door before towing his dog inside with him and bolting his home shut.

Several more minutes of silence passed between us before I finally responded to what Khamul had said. "W-Why?"

He waited for me to explain.

"Why would it be a waste?"

A grumble sounded in his throat, "I would slit the throat of a male elf without hesitation. They are bland. Purposeless and unintelligent."

That did nothing to answer my question-only made me shudder, reminding me of the power the man at my back possessed.

"The female of your kind carry something else entirely. A sort of grace this world has yet to match in any other form. It is..._bewitching."_

I swallowed hard, trying fruitlessly to ignore the stirring in my gut. Every breath he took seemed to affect me-every word out of his mouth.

Unconsciously, I squeezed his hand, and he jerked.

"Forgive me," I whispered, releasing him in a panic.

The ride lasted a while longer before we came upon Hobbiton's night watchman.

I could see him ahead on the path, waving his lantern.

And we were approaching at a breakneck speed.

"Who goes there!?" he cried.

It happened in a split second.

Khamul veered his horse to the left, drawing me tightly against his chest and turning my face away as we passed.

I felt something warm splatter across my cheek and hands.

Yanking out of Khamul's hold, I gazed down in horror at the scarlet beads dotting my knuckles. "Wh-what did you do!?"

Khamul gave me a shake, one hand clutching my waist, _"I _did nothing. It was Uvatha. We cannot afford to be stopped."

"But you only just said-"

"He was not an elf, Iviandelle-and he was certainly not you."

I gasped.

My name.

How could he've possibly remembered my name?

But more importantly, why would he use it? This was a man supposed to hate me by design.

Everything was falling out of place, rather than falling into it.

In less than two days, a wraith-one of the foulest creatures to walk this earth, as I'd been originally taught-had defended my life, shielded me from the horror of murder and used my given name.

No...that didn't sound like hate at all.

**Chapter 8: Things That Can Never Be**

_Chapter Seven_

_Things That Can Never Be_

"They will try to cross the river!" the Witch King shouted.

We'd been chasing a quartet of hobbits around the forest for hours. But Khamul swore to me that one of them had the Ring.

He'd almost put it on.

The Witch King was barking commands at all the separate wraiths, and when his eyes landed on Khamul, he commanded, "Find that crossing! Intercept them in Bree!"

Khamul nodded behind me, rearing his horse and bolting off to the North.

I noticed only one other wraith followed us-one of the smaller ones.

The idea that I'd be away from the Witch King for even the smallest amount of time was endearing. I relaxed slightly against Khamul.

It must've been quite difficult to keep his horse running at such a speed with me on its back as well. I'd decided early on that Khamul was a skilled rider. He didn't even seem to be trying very hard.

It disturbed me that the idea of jumping off the horse and running away had never crossed my mind.

That alien safety I felt with him was clouding my judgement. _Again._

We were traveling around the river's line, seeking Brandywine Bridge. I'd almost entirely forgotten about the wraith behind us after a couple of minutes.

"My lord..." I whispered.

A hiss echoed in my ear after a moment, urging me to continue.

"I-I know it isn't the best time for such things...but-well, I've always been curious. I-I just wondered if I might ask a few questions...about your kind, so that I may know them before I die."

It was a ridiculous excuse, but it was all I could think of.

My curiosity's true origin was from the strength of his arms and the grip of hands and the strange feeling he was giving me.

I-for the damnedest of reasons-wanted to know more about him.

About this dark, powerful wraith.

He made a sound resembling disbelief, and his chest rumbled against my back when he spoke, "Ask them, then."

A small flicker of surprise hit me. He would answer?

Incredible...

"I...well, I asked once before," I began, the nerves boiling up inside of me, "and I don't want to offend, but-"

"Do we have faces," he finished for me, and I nearly gasped. He'd been paying more attention to me than I'd gathered.

It was-well, it was oddly disarming.

"Yes, curious elf. Yes, we have faces."

I blanched at that. I could literally feel all the blood draining from my face. Instantly, my mind flooded with images. Ideas of what he might look like. His eyes, his mouth, his neck and jaw...

It made that tingling in my gut explode into a wildfire. Why? I did not know.

"Why, then?" I breathed. "Why can't they be seen?"

He made a movement, like a shrug, against me, "We are cursed. A powerful enchantment was placed over these robes so that we may never see our faces again. I know not what can break it."

A sadness filled me-almost a pity.

"And...your voices?"

His reply was both an answer and a horrible pang in my heart, "I used to be able to sing."

Something inside of me was reduced to ashes, and seconds later, it was all spilling out. Every thought that had been in my mind these last hours with him.

"Why must you serve him? Why? You are not like the others. I can sense it. There is a cruelty in them that is absent in you. Why? Why do you do this to yourself? You were men, once. Kings. How can you allow yourself to kneel before a monster?"

For a long while, there was nothing.

Then his chest expanded with a deep breath.

And nothing more.

But I'd said so much now, I had to continue, "You are powerful enough to abandon his will, I believe. Why not abandon all of this? What is it that you're working toward? You could...you could come with me-to Rivendell." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "You could be free. Perhaps Lord Elrond could find a way to-"

"_Enough," _he growled, and the anger in his voice rendered me speechless.

"You talk of myths and dreams. There is no freedom on my path. I beg you, _do not tempt me._ Sauron would destroy MIddle Earth...were I to join with you." His voice broke, and even through the grated sound of it, I could hear the emotion.

"We could fight." I pressed. "We have wanted to fight for ages. The time has come. Please, Khamul...leave all of this behind. I trust you far too much."

His hand dug into my side.

"I beg you..." he repeated in a whisper. And then I felt his head rest on my shoulder.

A forehead-not a hood. I could feel the skin on my own-the hardness of bone.

"_Please...don't." _It was so quiet I barely heard it.

"No," I said, realizing the truth in my words only when I said them. "Too many have turned their backs on you."

He jerked his head away from my shoulder, focusing once more on the rode before us and pressing his feet into the horses's sides.

"Why would it matter to _you?"_ he hissed. "We are foul creatures...evil. You are not. What have we in common but this forced alliance?"

I closed my eyes, leaning back against him despite the small sound of protest he made. "I do not find you foul..."

"You don't know me."

"Then allow me to-"

"You mustn't speak of things that can never be. It would be wise if you said nothing more."

And with that, he'd ended our conversation.

Yet, it was the strangest thing. I felt as if I'd actually gotten through to him in that moment.

And, stranger still, I _wanted_ him to come to Rivendell.

Or was it...

Could I possibly...

Perhaps it was just...

Oh-damn it all.

I wanted _him._

It was as clear as a Dwarven crystal.

**Chapter 9: A Different Side**

_Chapter Eight_

_A Different Side_

I spent the rest of the ride in a tense silence.

Khamul wouldn't even look at me.

It didn't help that the halflings escaped in Bree. I watched four of the wraiths stab hobbit-sized beds to shreds, only to find feathers beneath. And, great havens, the sounds they made-horrible piercing cries of anger.

They were all of them disturbed.

Khamul never moved from my side, but he'd relieved himself of my touch, standing next to the horse instead.

It didn't like me being alone on top of it. It whined and stamped, forcing Khamul to soothe it with a metal-gloved hand.

Watching him nearly brought tears to my eyes. The strange compassion he had-the way he calmed the beast.

It was a side of him that was so incredibly evident, I wondered how I'd ever missed it.

The Witch King's ravaged voice assailed me as he addressed the Nine, "A ranger is protecting them! Damned fools! He will know how to cover their tracks!"

"I'll wager he didn't expect an elf to travel with us," said another wraith. "She should be able to follow them."

I bowed my head.

I could face none of their dark stares at this moment. I'd become too vulnerable with all of these thoughts.

"Can you?" Khamul whispered gently.

_Gently._

These new..._feelings _for him were going to get me killed.

"I will try," I breathed, hands shaking where they gripped the horse's mane.

A dark, gritty laugh came from the Witch King, "You'll try? _You'll try? _Charming...really charming. I would rather cut your throat and tear the hair from your worthless scalp than watch you _try."_

I gasped, but the sound was drowned out by Khamul's booming voice, "You'll keep your black tongue behind your teeth!"

The Witch King gave another chuckle, and I could only stare as he approached Khamul...slowly, like a predator waiting to pounce.

"Why, Khamul?" he purred. "Do you care for the woodland bitch?"

I in no way expected what came next.

Khamul tore a dagger from his belt and slammed it against the Witch King's supposed neck, knocking him off balance and into his own horse.

It was a different wraith-Uvatha, I believed-who laughed this time.

"He has fancied this one from the beginning. Wishes to keep her as his whore..."

My eyes widened.

_What?_

Khamul turned to face Uvatha, and a dark growl rumbled from his chest.

The remaining wraiths gathered in a tense circle around them, hissing now and again. Khamul didn't let up on the knife.

The Witch King shoved away from him, "Sickening."

Khamul growled once more.

"Very well...keep your whore-"

"She is no whore. She is an _asset. _I merely require your respect."

My grip on the reigns slackened slightly. I was unsure why my heart was racing so violently.

"Have it your way..." the Witch King drawled, "but if you stray from our path, I will bleed you...like a-"

"Save your threats," Khamul barked. "You know my rightful place. Don't forget it."

There was a tense silence.

And then I was shocked to see the Witch King's head bow-almost in submission-before he straightened and went back to his duties, commanding something in every direction.

Khamul returned to my side, reaching up to mount the horse behind me. He slid atop it effortlessly, but I felt his hand linger on my waist as it slid around...for perhaps a moment too long.

I fought the urge to shut my eyes and sigh-fought the need to lean back against him as I always did and accept his uncanny warmth.

I couldn't.

Now was certainly not the time.

As the wraiths began to ride from the now deserted village of Bree, I spoke to him in a hushed voice, "Why do they call me your..._whore?"_

He never answered.

I woke to the dark, feeling his heartbeat against my warm cheek. It was unnaturally slow and inviting, almost sensual in its rhythm. The horse's feet below us began to ease, decelerating all at once to a full stop.

"What are we doing?" I whispered groggily, the images of the wraiths dismounting coming into focus in front of me.

"We're stopping for the night. The horses must rest."

I realized suddenly how I was laying against him-and jerked up, nearly falling off of the horse.

He slipped off the dark beast, and then, to my amazement, turned and helped me down before any of the other wraiths could see.

"Thank you," I said, but it had probably been too quiet for him to hear.

"Rogart!" The Witch King called. "Take the first watch."

Watch? Wraiths could..._sleep?_

I'm not sure why I'd doubted it, but I suppose it just didn't seem normal to me. They weren't dead or alive-why would they need to sleep?

Nevertheless, my eyes followed Khamul as he settled down on the grass, sitting back against a tree and clutching his sword to his chest.

The others did similar things, and eventually, I was left to stand there, wondering which wraiths were awake and which were sleeping.

The only one I knew to be conscious was Rogart, as he was standing up and surveying the area.

It made me nervous.

It was a wonder I got any sleep at all.

And what sleep I did get was haunted by dreams of Khamul-these much clearer than the earlier ones. Dreams of faces...

Faces with intense eyes and warm breaths and a mouth by which to sing.

Havens, what would he sound like? Would his voice be light-high and airy like the sky above us...

No. Even if I was beginning to see a different side of him, he was anything but light.

No, I decided his voice would be deep and sultry-like molasses or red wine. Take your pick.

Oh, but I yearned.

I yearned to see his face with a fire hotter than Mordor.

**Chapter 10: When He Gives In**

_Chapter Nine_

_When He Gives In_

"Wake the harlot. We're losing daylight."

The voice was far too jarring not to wake me already. My eyes snapped open, forgetting, for a moment, where I was. And then I saw the wraith towering over me.

With a gasp, I scrambled backward, a small shriek managing to work its way out of me. For haven's sake, I was acting more like a human than an elf. Clutching my heaving chest, I risked a second glance at the tall form.

And from the tilt of his head, I recognized him as Khamul.

His hand stretched out to me-another strange, gentle gesture. "Come, she-elf. We take our leave of this place."

Quickly enticed by the idea of riding against him again, I grasped his metal-gloved hand and he swept me up in a flash.

For a moment, we held perfectly still, staring at one another. Or rather, I _thought_ he was staring at me.

"Scent them, woman," the Witch King ruptured the moment, and Khamul wrenched his hand away. "Where are the halflings?"

Gritting my teeth, I turned away from their vile leader, slowly gathering a deep breath through the nose. Then I spoke. "East."

For reasons unknown to me at the time, Khamul's head snapped up, as if shooting to attention. I cast him a questioning glance as the Witch King rounded up the others, barking the direction to them, but he merely shook his head.

The wraiths began to mount their horses, and once more, Khamul offered me his arm, helping me to swing upon the large, dark creature.

"Khamul?" the Witch King commanded and Khamul hesitated where he stood beside the beast.

"Why not let the she-elf ride with me?"

Fear swelled up within me, and I had to work very hard not to let it show. But I saw Khamul's fist clench at his side. He answered as swiftly as he could,

"She will panic, Sire, as will your horse. The she-elf has grown..._accustomed_ to me. It would be wise not to provoke her."

The Witch King scoffed in his face. "You speak as if we should fear the frail thing."

Khamul gave a slow nod. "Indeed."

The leader stepped closer to him, invasively growling out his next words, so quietly I almost missed them. "Or is it that you wish to keep the harlot for yourself?"

"I have already warned you-"

"I understand the draw, believe me..." the Witch King continued over him. "Creatures of her kind are..._tantalizing._"

In a movement so quick, it was nearly impossible to witness with the naked eye, Khamul's glove shot out and gripped his leader round the neck, pulling him closer to hiss darkly, "You have forgotten your place again."

_How?_ How did he have such control over a man above him? How could he do such a thing without expecting certain death?

The other wraiths were watching curiously, cocking their heads to the side and forming a sort of circle around the two.

"And you have only proven that I am right," the leader ground out, voice strangled from the pressure on his throat.

Khamul spoke through clenched teeth. I could tell. "Mount your damned horse. The she-elf rides with me." Then he thrust the Witch King away, turning back to me. His leader stumbled away without further question, barking once more at the confused others.

Khamul glanced up at me, seeing my stunned expression, and then swung himself up onto the beast with a grace I admired. A grace I'd seen in the elves...

But just before he'd done so, I felt the cold metal of his glove lightly graze the small patch of bare skin on my ankle. It sent a shiver through my very bones, like a powerful sort of dark sorcery.

And I knew I had reached the edge. The point at which I could no longer ignore the strange spell he had over me.

I was going to ruin myself.

_He_ was going to ruin me.

Wordlessly, Khamul spurred his horse, leaning forward and making me all too conscious of his body as the animal launched ahead. Its pounding rhythm beneath us was doing something to me...lulling me.

It was impairing my judgement-that's what it was doing.

Khamul's horse slowed only slightly, as if by some unspoken agreement that he couldn't lead the others, and the Witch King took off in front.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I didn't know much about anything at this point.

I only _did..._seemingly regardless of the consequences.

And so when my hand came to rest on Khamul's strong, muscular thigh, there was literally nothing I could do to stop it.

He tensed so violently, I thought he might fall from his horse, his grip on the reigns visibly tightening.

The heat from his skin began to sink into my palm, even with so many layers of cloth between us, and I squeezed the slightest bit, feeling his body jerk against mine.

"What are you doing?" he growled, struggling to keep control of the horse.

I didn't answer his question. Instead, in an alien mindset, I nestled back into his chest, curling my torso to rest my head against his collarbone and whispering, "Thank you."

He was _shaking. _Trembling faintly under my touch.

"For what?" The words were so quiet, it was almost possible to forget the rasp in his voice-to hear it as a breath, a softness.

"For staying with me."

After a moment's hesitation, he tried to make a sound resembling a huff. "It is my duty. Nothing more."

I swallowed hard, allowing my hand to navigate its way slowly down his darkly clothed chest, unable to feel what was beneath, but certain of the powerful muscle.

Khamul snapped back in shock, but I kept my hand firmly placed, gently massaging his torso. "I'm not sure I can believe that anymore." When my curious palm stretched a path up toward his hood, fingertips just barely grazing the darkness, he released when hand from the reigns and snapped it around my wrist like a shackle.

"_You must not,"_ he said forcefully, guiding my hand away. "What on earth has led you to insinuate that you mean anything to me?"

Though the words stung, I forced myself to tell him the truth.

"You are trembling, Khamul...and I have never known a wraith to tremble, in all my years of life."

As if noticing it for the first time, he schooled his body into immediate stillness. It saddened me...to feel him go so cold.

I thought I'd finally broken him down.

Turning around on the horse, I faced the wind once more, freeing myself of the feel of him by scooting forward. "Perhaps I would've been better off with the Witch King, then."

But I could never've expected what he did next. Not in a million lifetimes.

His cloaked arm thrust out, banding tightly around my waist and slamming my back against him with a force that made me gasp.

"_You will not speak of such things."_

And it was when I squirmed, shifting my hips the slightest fraction, that he made the most alarmingly human noise I'd ever heard.

A dark, masculine groan of longing.

**Chapter 11: Longing**

_Chapter Ten_

_Longing_

We were so close to Rivendell, it drove me near mad.

We were supposed to skirt past it the following morning, and from where we'd set up camp, I could smell the elven trees. It called to me.

Like a moth to a flame.

So it was unavoidable when the wraiths sat down to rest, sleeping by the looks of it, and Khamul turned his back on me to take the first watch, that I disappeared into the trees. I wasn't running. No. I was creeping through the ferns and praying to the Great Havens no one discovered my absence until I was long out of sight.

But Khamul...

No! I could not allow myself to think about him. He was a wraith. He was not like me...

And I had every right to escape without him.

But despite my efforts, I could feel the guilt boiling within me, along with something else. Something I didn't quite understand.

A longing...

I _longed_ for him. And I didn't know why.

The forest was alive this night, a darkish blue in color with the moon glistening through the treetops. I inhaled a deep breath of the cool air, relishing in my first moments of freedom.

Needless to say, the feeling didn't last long.

Not ten minutes into the forest had I walked when I heard the faintest of footsteps behind me. And I knew it was over.

Closing my eyes, I slowly turned to face my follower, resting my hand wearily on a the trunk of a birch. "Please...let me go."

"You cannot leave," was Khamul's soft reply.

My eyes opened and I gazed at him. His tall form was no longer threatening to me...but still a danger. And though my curiosity over his true face still burned deep within, I was afraid of him...because he was the only thing keeping me from my freedom at the moment.

And I _had_ to be free.

"Khamul..." I whispered, stepping toward him. "I fear for you."

His crossed his ironclad arms over his broad chest, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Are you not afraid...of existing like this until the end of all things? Cold and lifeless?"

He said nothing.

"Come with me. I can save you-"

"We've spoken of this," he growled, turning his head away from me and glancing up at the dark sky. I could see the restlessness in his stance-the indecision and confusion.

And I knew what I had to do.

Gathering a deep breath, I closed the distance between us, standing so close to him that it made me shiver, and murmured, "Touch me, Khamul."

His head snapped to me in shock.

"I want you to feel my heartbeat. Feel the life in me..." And before he could pull away, I'd taken his metal hand in mine and placed it on my chest atop bare skin. A violent shudder shook through his body, but he didn't dare move otherwise.

I breathed deeply, pushing my chest up into his palm, and I knew he could feel the pulse-the even beat of my lifeline.

"I can save you, Khamul..." I whispered, my hand still clutched over his. "Lord Elrond will be able to help you. I am certain of it."

Khamul shook his head. "Nothing can save me."

I felt tears prick at my eyes as I stared up into the nothingness of his face, but forced them back indignantly, instead moving his hand up the curve of my throat to cup my cheek. His fingers were so long, they spanned the length of my jaw all the way to the crown of my head. "You're wrong," I breathed.

His hand tensed, fingers curling and nearly scratching my skin. "Why must you do this to me?" he rasped, sounding wounded...tortured. But then his hand went slack again, relaxing against my cheek, and to my shock, he moved his thumb to slowly caress my lips.

"I may fear _for_ you, Khamul..." I said. "But I do not fear _you_."

A rumbling sound escaped him, like a sigh.

Moving my hands to the long expanse of his shoulders, I murmured, "May I?" as my fingers traced the rim of his hood.

After a long hesitation, he nodded once.

There was a prickling feeling as my hand trespassed into the dark, but as I inched my fingers forward, I felt the brush of skin. The bone of jaw...

Havens, he really was humanoid.

He made another sound at the feel of skin on skin, this one more like a moan. His hand slipped off my cheek to slide down and grip me by the waist, pulling me as close as possible until our bodies were flush.

I gave a small whimper, allowing my fingers to explore the gentle swell of his lips...the long, masculine slope of his nose, the tickle of eyelashes and faint stubble. Wrapping my hand around the nape of his neck, I knew instantly of my next endeavor.

And Khamul was anything but resistant when I dragged our faces close, the darkness swift approaching, and pinpointed the position of his mouth without fail.

Our lips met slowly...cautiously, and though I knew I would see nothing if I opened my eyes, it still felt necessary to close them. He took my bottom lip slowly between his, sucking with a gentleness that made me quiver.

And something inside of me exploded.

The desire. It had to be the desire.

That which I'd been smothering deep down inside for as long as I'd known him.

There would be none of that. Not anymore.

He didn't taste as I'd expected him to taste, had I expected to taste him at all. He tasted of spices...tobacco, cinnamon, pepper. It was the strangest and most intoxicating taste I had ever know, causing my tongue to venture out from between my lips and fight its way his mouth.

He did not defend himself, opening up wide with a dark groan as I licked along the roof of his mouth...his soft tongue...his human teeth.

And then, inevitably, he wrenched himself away from me, disappearing from my sight.

I was far too flustered to move, standing there alone, gasping for breath. I couldn't believe he'd just walked away like that.

Well...actually, I could...but-

He was back, his dark, massive horse in toe, marching steadily toward me. And a burst of hope ignited in me.

That is, until he pressed the reigns into my hands and whispered, "Go."

_I'll have you know that their kiss wasn't in the first draft of this chapter at all. I added it in after much consideration. You can thank me later ;) Hope you enjoyed._


	6. This Town Deserves a Better Class of

Title: **This Town Deserves a Better Class of Criminal**

Category: Movies » Batman Begins/Dark Knight

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Tragedy

Published: 05-25-13, Updated: 07-21-13

Chapters: 4, Words: 3,989

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Okay, I know I have a poll going about what my next story should be and that this is NOT one of the options, but I had to get it out before I forgot about it and it got lost in the fiery depths of my computer :) Don't worry, that poll still applies. I'm just waiting for more votes to come in before I act on it :) Anyway, I want the Joker to get some proper recognition and some love as well, so I'm unleashing this monster. Heaven help you all 3:) Listen to:**

**Familiar (feat. D.J. Greyboy) - Incubus (Fabulously perfect!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Prologue**_

_Doll Face._

_I am still a stranger to myself. There was a point in my life when I believed I knew my own workings, but now I find that to be a grave folly. The proverbial think tank of my mind never belonged in my proverbial head, per say. I've always fancied that it did, but of course I have. The truth is bitter. Joking is better..._

I wish it could all make sense for you.

I wish I could slap a label on it all and call it a name. But I can't. What has happened is a nameless, faceless ghost, hovering above me, and I will never succeed in grasping it with my cold hands and turning it into something of substance.

Never.

I can only tell you what I saw-what I see, now, in these last moments.

I won't tell you that my name is Harley. That would be a commonplace lie. And lies are no good when they are common. Lies must be sculpted-weaved, sanded, and crafted to perfection, and even then, only used when the moment is opportune.

No, I won't tell you that I am Harley.

But I won't tell you my true name either, for that I have entrusted to him, and to him alone.

He could never repay me with a secret of the same magnitude, because he never knew his real name. He did tell me, though, the name that he gave himself as a child-to keep his soul company, he said.

And though I hold that secret close to me, guarded within my very skin, I know I must reveal it to you.

So that someone will know that he had a name.

That he had a name and a face and a soul.

My dark, twisted, mentally unsound lover had a soul.

And he called it Jack.

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :)**

**Chapter 2: Carousel**

**I don't know...something about this story is calling to me. I have to continue :) Listen to:**

**Beauty School - Deftones (I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**Carousel**_

_Remember those card tricks you used to speak so ill of? I've been running them through in my head. A twist. A flick. Another disappointing outcome. I cannot think of anything else. All these tangled threads in my mind threaten to fray at the mere sight of a knife..._

Starting from the beginning will hurt me, but I feel that I must, at any cost. After all, nothing could possibly hurt more than the present.

I was born in a little, blue house, way down at the end of the street. It was modest and unimportant-the perfect place to raise an angel child. _Me,_ they thought. And I fit the part for the first seven years of my life, I suppose.

But they say age seven is the age when rational thought takes over, and a child truly becomes responsible for their actions.

Seven was the age when my light, golden hair melded into a more dusky, pale cream-just one of the many stains on my halo, as they saw it. My eyes weren't blue anymore. They were gray. But what my dear, dear, deranged parents didn't realize at the time was that I was simply growing up.

And kids are always cuter when they're little, right?

They were obsessed with the idea, taking that age old, "I wish you'd never grow up" ploy to a whole new level.

When my body started to change, they restricted it. When my breasts grew in, full and desired by almost every other girl on the planet at my age, they bound them with an unbearably tight strap. I whined and whimpered, but all that got me was a spanking.

That's right-a spanking.

At fifteen years old.

They'd convinced themselves that I still went to elementary school, and would send me off in way-too-small, pink teddy-bear dresses, while I was really going to high school.

And I would rip those stupid clothes off halfway there, far more content to steal from the local thrift store than to be caught wearing them.

Boys clothes.

I had to wear boys clothes to disguise my disgustingly thin form.

Because my parents didn't feed me. They wanted me to "stay the right size for my age." An age they believed to be six.

I stole from that store every month or so, and I can't decide what's worse: The fact that I did it, or the fact that the storeowner probably knew, and let me do it anyway.

When I turned sixteen, they bought me a rocking horse...and when I didn't smile about it, I was slapped.

I'd learned to smile a lot more by then.

Because Daddy had a belt and I didn't like the sting.

It was all a nightmare. A sick, sick nightmare. But see, I barreled through until I turned eighteen, under the happy impression that I'd be free of them when I became a legal adult. I could move out and start my own life-maybe use my good grades for something.

Oh, how wrong I was.

My eighteenth birthday was just like all the others.

And it was also one of the worst days of my life. The catalyst. The day that sent me where I am today.

But I try to look back on it with bittersweetness, because without that day, I would never've met him. Even through all the gore, there is light in that memory.

I woke up that morning feeling impassioned-ready for my new life and ignoring the telltale tightness of my child's nightgown as I skipped down the stairs for once. That had to be the first time I'd done that in a decade.

My parents, seated around the coffee table, seemed delighted that I was acting like their little angel again. My father smiled his widest smile, raising his mug to me, "Good mornin', kiddo."

My mother rumpled my hair and kissed me on the cheek, moving to the sink to hand wash some dishes.

I bit my lip, rocking on the balls of my feet expectantly. "It's, uh...it's my birthday..." I said timidly, a stupidly bashful smile on my face.

My father glanced up from his paper again, "Right you are, muffin! Happy sixth birthday!"

It felt like I'd just been force-fed a bunch of cotton balls.

Clearing my throat, I tried to reply gently, "Uh, no...no, Dad. No, it's not."

My mom giggled at the sink, "Isn't she just the silliest little thing, Robert?"

My father echoed her laugh, dropping his eyes back to the news, "Sure thing."

"Dad..." I whispered. "I'm...I'm eighteen today..."

It looked like I was watching his reaction in slow motion. His fingers curled at a monotonous rate, gradually denting the paper between them, and he dragged it away from his face to glare at me.

Perhaps glare is too kind a word...

His eyes burned, scalding me like hot coals, and he asked in a clipped, low tone, "What did you just say?"

My mother had stopped moving at the sink. She was very still, a half-soaped dish held in her tight, withered hands.

Swallowing hard, I clasped my hands together firmly behind my back, struggling to maintain my nerve, and said again, "I'm turning eighteen...not six."

"Baby girl..." my mother whispered, her back still to me, "you shouldn't say things like that. It's not good to lie."

"But I'm not lying!"

And I made the mistake of raising my voice a little.

My father stood abruptly, dropping his paper flat on the table and reaching for his belt buckle. It was like a programmed trigger in my head-a fear trigger-and my heart started to beat faster as I whimpered, "No, Daddy...please, no!"

My mother went back to her dishes.

She always liked to pretend it wasn't happening.

But on that morning, for some insane reason, the crack of the leather on my skin was not as I remembered it to be.

It was _so much worse._

And after as little as three lashes, I'd completely lost my mind.

"NO!" I screamed, cowering back against the kitchen wall and raising my arms in front of my face.

This was Hell.

This was Hell.

I was never getting out.

They were going to keep me here forever.

You know how they say that instinct is far stronger than any form of logical thought? How it can completely override your system and take you over for as long as it needs to? Like a demon possessing you?

I have had such an experience.

And right then, my instinct was telling me to survive. To be free.

As my father's next swing came barreling down, I dodged beneath his raised arm, scurrying past my mother toward the silverware drawer.

I like to comfort myself by saying that the largest kitchen knife we owned was the first thing I could reach...but deep down, I know I grabbed it with purpose. And perhaps the most frightening thing is that I wielded it as if I'd been playing with knives all my life.

Then I turned around.

There would be blood all over my little, pink nightgown.

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :)**

**Chapter 3: Happy Families**

**Sorry for the wait :) I promise, I really do love this story, so I'll stick with it. Listen to:**

**Sarcasm - Get Scared (Perfect and creepy :) )**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Happy Families**_

_~ This chapter is dedicated to Jokerlover for the very kind, very encouraging review :) ~_

_But you, Doll Face...the sight of you, I fear, would be something far too close to Heaven, and I am not a religious man. I am many things, but a holy man is not one of them. Still, I fear that the sight of you would bring me to my knees..._

Their bodies were so heavy.

This, strangely, is one of the most prominent memories I have of that day.

Their bodies were so heavy as I dragged them from the kitchen into the living room, leaving behind a trail of thick, syrupy blood that I refused to look at. To acknowledge. In my mind, I pretended that it wasn't there.

I'd put the knife back in the drawer, soaked though it was in red, so that I could believe I'd never taken it out. Never used it.

And then I sat the corpses of my parents on the pristine, floral print sofa.

They weren't dead. They were only pretending, like in one of those childish games they'd always force me to play.

But I didn't think it was funny anymore.

So I went into the garage, moving somewhat cautiously toward my Daddy's precious workbench that I'd been told I was "never, ever, _ever_ allowed to touch," and grabbed a pair of pliers.

My parents sat where I'd left them when I returned.

"I don't want to play anymore," I informed them...and when they didn't listen to me, I sighed, approaching and taking my mother's head between my hands. I lifted the pliers to her eyelids and forced them apart, revealing her cold, lifeless irises.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, their death must've registered with me, because why else would I need pliers? Postmortem would require them. Pretending would not...

Daddy was next, but even as they stared back at me from the couch, I was not content. They didn't look happy. They didn't look like my parents.

So I ran upstairs into their bedroom, digging in the drawer of my mother's vanity until I found her tube of blood-red lipstick.

I don't think the irony of the color occurred to me at the time.

"Why aren't you smiling?" I asked them, sitting on my Daddy's lap and opening the tube. "Why are you so serious?"

Of course there was no response.

So I proceeded to paint a smile on his face. A garishly crooked, bloody smile. I did the same to my mother.

But even as I stepped back this time to evaluate them, it wasn't enough. They were still pretending.

"Why are you doing this to me...?" I whispered, letting the lipstick fall from my hand. It would later be collected as evidence.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?" I screamed, and my voice had grown so loud so suddenly that it echoed through our tiny house. _"WHY!?"_

I ran to my father's corpse, beating on his chest with my fists violently and jolting his limp form. I slapped my mother across the face too many times to count.

Neither reacted.

"I hate you!" I shouted. _"I HATE YOU!"_

My therapist liked to tell me that this moment was a rather profound example of the pent up anger at my parents. He liked to say that I was actually quite sane in this moment-that my anger was not directed toward their "pretending..." (he would use air quotes when he said this), but rather at their abusive treatment of me all my life.

I like to believe differently.

Because never will I ever believe that what I did to them, I did with a clear head.

The neighbors ended up calling the police. They must've heard me screaming. And when the three or four men in uniform came bursting through our front door, they did not find me running.

They found me curled up between my parents' bodies, sobbing like the child they'd always wanted me to be, with my hands soaked in their blood as it drained out all over the carpet.

And to this day, the cop in the front's first question still brings tears to my eyes.

Because he must've believed in the goodness of humankind-in _my_ goodness-in order to ask me, "Are you hurt?"

I treasure the look of pity and concern that I'd seen in his eyes for the first few minutes, because that was the last of my innocence.

Then he took in the brunt of the situation-the lipstick smiles and the wide, doll-like eyes-and the look died away, warping into one of wariness. Suspicion. And he'd said, "Put your hands where I can see them."

In the back of my mind, I vaguely remember hearing the woman cop recite my parents' wounds to the other cops as her partner cuffed me.

"Multiple stab wounds. The male has a punctured lung. Female's head is beaten in. No pulse. Either of them."

I hadn't resisted arrest.

I'd welcomed it.

Because this house had become my personal Hell, and I wanted _out._ At the time, I didn't care what out meant, only that out was where I was going.

It didn't matter that I'd be headed someplace a lot more restrictive.

Nothing mattered.

My childhood was over, and for that, at least, I was thankful. Parents don't know what they're telling their kids when they read about Peter Pan and the "second star to the right" and Neverland and all that bullshit.

They encourage never growing up, when really, what they should be encouraging is growing up as quickly as possible.

Because innocence, I learned, was as dangerous-if not more-than guilt.

And I hated innocence, in Tybalt's words, as I hate Hell, all Montagues and thee.

Ironic, I suppose, considering that my story is an awful lot like Romeo and Juliet, if you discount the guns, bombs, drugs and the Batman. And the fact that my Romeo would turn out to be a great deal more like Macbeth.

But I digress, because he is still my Romeo-regardless of what they say. What they think. And truer words were never spoken than these:

What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.

And he did.

He smelled like cigarettes and gunpowder.

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :)**

**Chapter 4: Neighbor Games**

**So sorry for the long wait! I'm ecstatic that some people are liking this! Listen to:**

**Sweetest Kill - Broken Social Scene**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Neighbor Games**_

_Ever wonder why my cell happened to be next to yours? Chance and coincidence are for fools. It happened for a reason, I feel certain. You were just a girl. My little, baby girl. Why would they place you beside a madman like me? No, not a coincidence. Not on my life..._

I really haven't got it figured why they keep the damn sign up. As if anyone _wants_ to be here...feels welcome here. Yet, there it remains, in bright green letters, just above the entryway.

_Welcome to Arkham Asylum!_

I think I had to remind myself several times that this was better than before. Better than where I'd come from.

The trial hadn't been a long affair. It was so blatantly obvious that I'd done it. I had motive...more so than most of the criminally insane, these days. So it was a simple thing. In and out-three days at the most.

And here I was.

My sentence was brutal, or so my attorney told me.

"_Ten years in Arkham! Ten! For a little girl!?" _he'd bellowed, face pink with outrage as he pointed sausage-like fingers at the judge. To this, the judge had calmly explained that I was no longer a minor.

Unlucky me.

I hadn't been upset. Not really. In fact, I might've freaked out the attorney a little bit with my relaxed demeanor. I'd just asked them to show me to my cell and leave me be.

At least I got one thing that I wanted.

Arkham was painted a very severe tint of white, meant to be calming, I suppose, but having the opposite effect. And one of my first thoughts was that there were too many hallways. Too many_ identical_ hallways.

I started to wonder whether their goal was to keep us all insane.

More money for them, I guess.

They'd cleaned me up and cut my hair so short I couldn't see it, giving me the standard patient clothes. Loose hospital pajamas.

A woman in the white hospital uniform held me firmly by the arm, walking with purpose through several different alphabetized wings.

I had been placed in C-wing. Homicide wing.

"Here you are," she said, reaching to her belt for the keys and unlocking a very empty glass cell. At this rate, I was just glad there wasn't a rocking horse in it.

She wasted no time, leading me inside and locking the door behind me.

And that was that.

My boredom ended there.

After curling up on my spring-supported cot for a few minutes, trying to relieve the migraine pulsing at my temple, I heard a very distinct, plasticky knock. One that made me whip my head around so fast, I knew the headache would last another hour or so because of it.

The fluorescent lights made it easy to see him.

Less than an inch of plexiglass away, he sat on the tile floor, legs crisscrossed beneath him.

Panic had seized me at first, because this was homicide wing. He could be a rapist. Some kind of psycho creep come to terrorize me into my own insanity.

But he wasn't grinning or making any strange, lewd comments.

No, instead he had his head cocked to one side, lips pursed in pure curiosity as he looked on me with a furrowed brow. And after a moment, I let myself relax enough to really look back.

He was not what I'd expect from an insane asylum.

The classic image one gets is that of a crazed human being, hair wild and greasy, scratching their own skin off as they lick their cheeks and roll around on the floor.

He was anything but this.

I noticed his clothes first. They were the same as mine, only wrinkled where he'd been sitting and laying. Still, they were in pristine condition-as white as mine, too. I wondered if he was a new patient like me. Patient clothes were supposed to get dirty, weren't they? They were supposed to be spilled, drooled and urinated on, right?

No, I guess not.

His were clean and simple, which is perhaps what led me to sit up and turn to face him on my cot. He didn't look scary. Not like I'd expected.

Now I looked at his face.

My god...

Handsome. That was the first word that came to mind. Handsome and_ young. _In his twenties, maybe.

He had a long, thin face with delicate features. High cheekbones. Hollow cheeks. Full, pink lips. Thick, dark eyebrows, arched in question now. Straight, chestnut hair, cascading over his forehead, shadowing his face. But most importantly, his eyes...

Oh, his _eyes._..

Green. So very, very green. Green like sage and yet green like pine. Green like grass. Green like emerald. Green like everything beautiful.

And they were open and clear...with wonder.

I'd never seen eyes like these. Eyes that were inviting, but somehow guarded in the same instant.

And, though I have no idea how, they instilled instantly within me a certain _hope. _A hope that I could survive this place. Survive the hell I was living. Hope that, by staring into those eyes day after day, I could have something to look forward to.

In a matter of seconds, I was smiling again. _Truly_ smiling.

At this, he smiled back. A bemused, charming smile, exposing white teeth with sharp canines. Lifting a smooth, slender hand, he beckoned me toward him...

And suddenly, my guard was up again.

I wasn't nearly that stupid. What if being charming was his way? His tool to attract victims?

He must've seen me stiffen, because he spoke. His voice was deep and warm, yet tinny from the small air holes the sound carried through.

"Come on, sweetheart. I can't hurt you." He tapped the glass to prove it. "I just want to get a look at my new neighbor."

Swallowing thickly, I considered his words.

And then, slowly, I stood.

He beckoned me further, motioning to the floor just in front of the glass. "Sit with me?"

I sat.

"What's your name?"

I said nothing.

"No? You're very pretty, you know...and very young. How old are you, lovely?"

I struggled with the word for a moment, and when my voice did come, it was only a croak, "Eighteen."

"Mmm..." he murmured, evaluating me with those eyes again.

_Green._

_Green._

_Green._

He smiled wolfishly. "Think I've made a new friend."


	7. I, Predator

Title: **I, Predator**

Category: Movies » Aliens/Predator

Author: Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors

Language: English, Rating: Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Published: 04-07-13, Updated: 09-02-13

Chapters: 10, Words: 12,090

**Chapter 1: I am Compromised**

**What's up, badass readers?**

**Just a few notes before all of this begins :)**

**Yes, I have seen all the Predator films and have a good knowledge of their background and culture.**

**I will be using many of the known terms in the Yautja (predator) language. I will define them immediately in italics.**

**Though I understand that the Predator's garish appearance beneath the mask is part of its trademark, this IS a story about inter-species intimacy...and I find it kind of difficult to romanticize that...face. So, I have created a variation of the Predator (don't worry, he's extremely similar) for my male lead. I'll describe it in detail during the story, but I just want you to know that he'll be a little more-shall we say-**_**handsome.**_

**Yes, I did steal the title idea from the marvelous Isaac Asimov, but with the utmost respect. His works are some of my all-time favorites.**

**This story will include detailed, rough, inter-species situations of the sexual nature. Don't say you weren't warned.**

**I've only recently realized that I hate prologues. So...NO PROLOGUE. I'm going to launch right into it.**

**I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it! I LOVE REVIEWS :)**

**Listen to:**

**You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast (THIS SONG IS PERFECT! :) )**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter One**_

_**I am Compromised**_

"I hope y'all aren't sissies. We don't allow sissies on these things. It ain't no walk in the park, you hear?"

The group looked taken aback by his forwardness, but I guess-considering the situation-it wasn't nearly forward enough. Stepping up beside him, I slapped Gill on the back in an attempt to ease the tension.

"I'm not going to say he's lying, but it's not as bad as all that." It really was... "He's just kidding."

The tourists stared at me in confusion.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Calvin. I'll be leading the way today. Gill is back-up."

Some nodded, but one spoke up-a young woman in a bright pink tank top. "Back-up? Why do you need back-up?"

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, "It's just a precaution. No big deal."

It was Gill's turn to slap me on the shoulder. "Calvin here is the best there is. You'll never experience a finer extreme tour than when you're biting this one's dust."

I laughed, batting him off, "Shut up, you dumb hick. We're losing daylight."

Gill winked at me, strapping on his backpack and checking the laces on his hiking boots. I addressed the group again,

"I would highly suggest leaving valuable items and electronic devices here at the lodge. There's no service where we're headed so there's no use bringing cell-phones. If you didn't already see them on your way in, there are lockers in the back where you can store this stuff."

A few of the tourists disappeared then, digging iPods and laptops out of the bags as they went. Who the hell brings a laptop on an extreme tour?

When they returned, I raised my eyebrows at the group, waiting for the affirmative. "All set? Water bottles? Good shoes?"

"Bug spray..." some girl whispered. I smirked,

"Not like that'll help you."

Ignoring the look of distress she gave me, I turned my back to them and started marching toward the edge of the forest, gazing at the jungle beyond with a deep, satisfied sigh. This had to be the best gig a person could get. Extreme tour guide? Hell yes.

Darien National Park was a sight for sore eyes. A massive and wild oasis, as well as one of Panama's most beautiful attractions. Most people didn't tour it though. Like Gill said, in more words or less...it's not for the faint of heart.

The foliage began to thicken and I reached behind me to grab the machete in my pack. I smirked again when I heard the tour group gasp.

"How's it going back there?" I called.

Gill, who was bringing up the rear, grunted. I don't think he enjoyed his job as much as I did. Still, though, he'd said more than once that the thick of the jungle was his favorite place to be.

And, hey-if you can't do what you love, at least work in an awesome environment.

About thirty minutes into the hike, we started up the base of one of the mountains, and I heard the click of diehard photographers behind me.

It was one of the shorter peaks, and after another forty-five minutes or so, we stopped at the top for a rest. Not like I needed it. I could go on for days.

But the panting tourists told me otherwise, sitting down on the moss-covered rocks and drinking their water, completely oblivious to the wonderful view.

Predictably, one of the guys approached me while the others chatted amongst themselves and Gill chewed tobacco off to the side.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"I'm David." He put out his hand for me to shake and I took it with little enthusiasm. What was it with men and the constant urge to hit on people? "What did you say your name was again?"

"Calvin."

"Calvin? Doesn't sound like a-"

"It's my last name. I prefer to go by it."

He opened his mouth-probably about to ask for my first name-when I clapped my hands together. "Alright. Everybody up. We're moving on."

Instead of scaling the mountain right next to us, we traveled down the backside of the smaller one, heading back into the deeper, hotter terrain. I loved the way the jungle shrouded us in mist and fog the lower we got.

"Keep your eyes peeled for Jaguarundis."

"What are-"

"A very large, very proud species of jungle cats," Gill clarified. "They're endangered in lots'a other parts of the world-but here, they're thrivin."

Some of the tourists seemed excited by the prospect of seeing a jungle cat, but others looked ill at ease.

"They won't harm anyone," I added. "Unless they feel extremely threatened. But, the way I see it, I'm the one with the big knife, so...you guys should be fine."

I got some laughs for that, and the group seemed able to continue on.

After a long while, we entered a plateau in the land-a large, fern-filled field, surrounded by trees. I knew this place well enough...

I thought we'd skirted around it, but I guess I was wrong. Gill and I exchanged a look.

The temperature was skyrocketing today...and I noticed more than one tourist dumping water on their head.

"How about another break?" someone asked.

I shook my head, "I want to get to the checkpoint. You can rest there-with the waterfall." I added the last bit to bait them. There was no waterfall.

In truth, I wanted to get through the field as quickly as possibly.

It had always been the perfect place for..._them. _We were on the low ground, surrounded by trees only stronger animals could climb. More than once, I'd had to make a damn quick exit from here, because I'd heard that sound.

The tourists were already sitting down though, and it made me want to growl in frustration. I shot GIll another nervous look.

_What now?_

He gestured discreetly with a flat palm, indicating I should wait. That we didn't know what would happen and the odds were...slim.

Fine. But I would _not_, for the life of me, sit down.

"This better be a quick stop," I warned them. I should've listened to my instincts this morning. I'd felt that something was off, and yet I'd completely ignored it.

The tourists nodded at me with dismissive, 'Oh, yeah-very short. Don't worry.'s.

It had been fifteen minutes though, and I was only just managing to get them back on their feet. That was when I heard it.

At first, I thought I'd just gotten myself all hyped up. That is was just my imagination playing tricks on me. I was merely paranoid.

But then I saw Gill's eyes flash with understanding and recognition.

That sound...that infamous series of alien clicks...was not a phantom.

And I reacted the only way I could. "God dammit, GILL! GET THEM BACK TO THE LODGE NOW!"

Startled, the tourists glanced around wildly.

I threw my pack to the ground, ripping it open and pulling out a flare gun. My machete was still gripped tightly in my right hand.

"What is it?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Relax, we'll get to the checkpoint."

Gill quieted them when he started shoving them into the forest and away from the field. "Everybody! _Move!"_

Then someone asked, "Is it a Jaguarundi?"

That threw me over the edge. "GILL! Mother of fuck! Get them out of here! Go! NOW!"

He hesitated, "But...you-"

"Fuck! Forget about me! THIS IS MY JOB! I protect these goddamn people! _GO!"_

And without further ado, I turned and extended my arm, firing the flare directly into the center of the field.

Gill gave me one last, somber look, then nodded and dragged the tourists out of my sight.

The flare started a wild inferno in the ferns, blazing up high like a bonfire. I dropped the empty gun, wielding my machete in both hands.

The clicking returned-loud and animalistic.

Ready for a fight.

And all I could think was, _No. No, you stupid tourist._

_This is not a Jaguarundi._

**Chapter 2: I am Ravaged**

**Alright, I hope those of you reading are liking it :) Let me know. I had a comment about the Jaguarundis I mentioned. These are large, leopard-like cats that are native to Central America. Yes, they really do exist. :) Thanks for asking. Listen to:**

**Last Breath - Attack Attack! (PLEEEEEAAASSSE LISTEN TO THIS ONE. IT'S SO RIGHT FOR THIS CHAPTER!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**I am Ravaged**_

It-or, should I say-_they_ approached from the trees, as I'd predicted.

But that was all I could predict. The rest I'd only heard about from the folklore. The stories from that failed mission in Guatemala. And even though Panama was so far south from there, we'd received the warnings-even sketches.

The authorities had told us about these...creatures. How they preferred the heat of the jungle. How they hunted for trophies. Skulls and spines. How they were not, by any stretch of the word, _human..._

But nothing-I repeat,_ nothing-_-could prepare me for the sight of them before me, crouching in the moist grass.

These were the true jungle cats. Hell, from what I could see, they'd probably crush a Jaguarundi just by stepping on it.

And all I wanted to do was get the fuck out of there.

But I couldn't. I was the diversion. Why else had I lit the middle of the field on fire? To distract them, of course.

Their masks-supposedly-had heat censors.

Who cared? Whatever I was doing, it was working. The creatures were transfixed by me, standing like a statue in front of them. I took this one opportunity to study them. I knew they'd attack me soon enough.

There were four in total, towering over me side by side. Their rusted armor glinted lamely in the hot sun, masks every now and then emitting dark clicks and grumbles.

Two of them seemed shorter-about the height of human men-but they still stood a head taller than me. They were similar to the drawings I'd seen, but not exact. Their masks were wider-bulkier, and they were certainly not cartoons.

Something had to be done. And soon. I couldn't stand this suspense.

"I know what you are..." I whispered, and in response, they seemed to come back to life. One of the tall ones stepped forward, and I stumbled back as needle-sharp wrist blades ejected from the metal on his arm.

The machete was still in my hands, but it felt as if I'd forgotten how to use it. Instead...I kept talking. Because that's all humans know how to do, right?

Talk and talk and talk...

"You...you cannot hunt in this area," I stuttered. "This is a preserve. _Safe_-for humans."

At the sound of the word, he gave an ugly snarl, swinging his bladed arm at me.

I bolted away, brandishing the machete and trying to growl right back at him. This was just like fighting a jaguar, right? Or a bear, or something? I just had to act tough-act like I was stronger than them.

Yeah...fat chance.

They knew how small I was, and by the looks of it...they also knew I was a woman. The one in front kept looking me up and down. And maybe I was crazy, but his eyes seemed to be glued to my chest.

Protectively, I wrapped one arm around myself, my other hand still clutching my weapon for dear life.

This couldn't be the end, though-could it? I wasn't supposed to die here!

I felt it in my bones.

And so I swung my knife, growling again. This time, I advanced on_ them, _hoping it would serve to throw them off, or something.

It didn't.

In fact, they seemed to be expecting it.

And the frontmost hunter allowed the tip of my knife to graze his chest only once before he swung his arm and batted mine away, effectively snapping the bone.

I screamed in pain, recoiling and desperately grabbing for the machete as it fell from my ruined hand. How could he possibly be that strong?

My stomach churned as the throb intensified in my arm. I was going to be sick-I was sure of it.

The machete fell to the ground with a quiet thump that somehow seemed deafening to me. Maybe because it was likely the reason I would die? That I was now weaponless?

The creature struck me down with a hard backhand to my face, and I heard, rather than felt, my cheekbone shatter. I was starting to go numb...

My nerves woke up, however, when he crouched over me, straddling my hips with huge, fishnet-covered thighs about the size of tree trunks. And the clothes being torn off my body was the jumpstart I needed.

Shrieking wildly, I clawed at the predator with my good hand, shaking my head and thrashing. In return, he scraped his razor sharp talons down my torso, opening huge, bloody gashes right across my breasts.

The pain didn't even register. Only the fact that this was more than just an assault...

It was-or had just become-a sexual assault.

The creature had ripped my shorts apart, spreading my legs with rough shoves. Screaming, I tried to force them back together again, but he was much to strong for me.

Raising his loincloth, I only caught the smallest glimpse of his...endowment...but it was enough to scare the hell out of me.

Glancing to my side, I saw the one way out. My machete, lying there uselessly in the grass.

Forced to use my broken arm, I reached out for it, the burning pain near-blinding me. But I could just feel it within my grasp.

And with a final cry, I flung it toward the predator on top of me, just as he'd been preparing to force his entry-and stabbed him straight through the neck.

Spluttering neon-green fluid onto my face, he choked and gasped and clicked, then collapsed over me, completely limp. His comrades released roars of disbelief and fury, and I worked desperately to push his heavy body off of me.

He was pinning me down.

Finally, I was able to squeeze out from underneath him, crawling weakly away on the three limbs that still worked, my broken arm clutched to my bare chest.

I sensed one of the others coming up behind me...and I knew it was over.

His wrist blades shot out with the sound of scraping metal, and next thing I knew, three razor-sharp knives were being pushed into my lower back.

A series of cut, gasping screams retched out of me before at least a pint of blood spilled out of my mouth and made me quiet.

And then the blades were swiftly removed, rolling me onto my back with the force of it. I moaned loudly, feeling the wound against the grass, and took in the sight ahead with blurry, pain-crazed eyes.

It looked like...one of _them_...was fighting the others. The creature who'd stabbed me was already dead it seemed-another body on top of his dead ally. And this new predator made short work of the other two.

Within the span of about ten seconds, one had been beheaded...and the other was being held by the throat, at least two feet off the ground.

The newcomer snarled at him, bringing their faces close together and then unleashing a furious roar. His own pair of wrist blades ejected from his armor, and without any hesitation whatsoever, he was driving them through the last creature's throat and out through the back of his skull.

I witnessed the gore soundlessly, then watched the dead one slump to the ground.

The last thing I remember was growling at my savior, as if in some poor manner of self-defense...and then I was unconscious.

I remember...at the time...I'd thought this was the kiss of death.

I was so wrong.

**Chapter 3: I am Introduced**

**Hi readers! Here's the next installment. For those of you who are impatient, avid smut readers, I would recommend reading my story The Piercing on Fictionpress. Maybe it'll get some of the horny out of you :) Haha. The link to my account is on my profile. Listen to:**

**Slept So Long - Jay Gordon Band (Soooo amazingly perfect for your first meeting with *wiggles eyebrows* the Dark Hound.)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Three**_

_**I am Introduced**_

_Thrum. Thrum. Thrum._

The sound was unfamiliar to me. Electronic...but acoustic all the same. Like a voice humming through a computer.

Opening my eyes proved both difficult and painful. Something sticky was trying to keep them glued shut, and when I eventually bested it, the sting was nearly unbearable. I was just grateful the light in the room wasn't bright.

No. Not at all. It was instead a deep, calming blue-something similar to those Panama City nightclubs, pulsing to the music. Only, this light pulsed to that strange hum, then faded to black every other second.

I was lying on my back, but that was about all I was sure of. There was a strange sensation in my gut, reminding me of the stomach-dropping roller coasters I'd ridden back in the States. It felt like...flying. Or at least hovering.

The pain in my arm came next, stabbing like a misplaced menstrual cramp. I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut again as the muscles coiled. After a minute or so, it became too painful to hold in, and a quiet, little whimper trickled out of me.

The lights stopped pulsing instantly, freezing on the blue-and the thrums ceased. There was a sound like a flying dart, and then a gust of air swept up against me, accompanied by heavy, even footsteps.

Panicking, I shot up to a sitting position, only to regret it immediately as lighting shot up my spine. I'd forgotten about my back...

The light wasn't bright enough to see far-just a couple of feet in front of me. And there was nothing there.

I could see the bars though. Surrounding the table I was sitting on. Whatever had me...saw me as a prisoner.

Slowly gripping one of the steel rods with my good hand, I squinted into the dark. I knew I wasn't alone. I felt eyes on me.

"Who are you...?" I breathed, more afraid of the emptiness than an actual threat.

At least three minutes of silence passed, and then I heard another footstep.

"Hello?" I whispered urgently. "Who's there?"

Another step. Whatever it was, it was getting closer...and my body began to shake violently, only helping the wounds to hurt more.

Finally, part of its body came into the meager light-and I gasped.

_So...big..._

I was staring up at the broad, intensely muscular chest of something way too enormous to be human. Shaped proudly like a V, the torso continued downward, completely bare, until it reached a shining, silver belt. Several strange objects dangled from it...and they looked like...

Skulls.

Ignoring the knot that formed in my throat, I let my eyes continue past the loincloth as quickly as possible and eyed its legs. They were longer...leaner than the creature that had held me down. Meant for running and jumping, rather than overall bulk.

I tried not to gawk.

Its feet were encased in a thin layer of metal...and then I saw the floor, prompting me to look up again. But its head was still in shadow.

Crossing large, well-rounded arms over its chest, it seemed to radiate masculinity...dominance, and I struggled to swallow.

Would he try to rape me too?

Shit! That shouldn't have been all I cared about! I should've cared about getting out of this place...this cage...this whole damned situation!

But here I was, worrying about my virtue instead.

That was when I realized that I was no longer naked, my breasts and rear wrapped with bandage-like material, and the thought did little to comfort me. Someone would've had to see me naked to make me...un-naked.

And had I had enough blood in me, I would've gone very red in the face.

"Who are you?" I repeated, going for a little more force but failing miserably.

After one last step, the creature was fully within my view. It cocked its masked head to the side, emitting those strange, natural clicking noises as it gazed at me. My eyes widened...startled.

Around the dark, titanium mask, black, sleek-looking tubes fell to the creature's lower back.

Dreadlocks, I realized after a moment. They were longer than those of the other ones I'd seen...and for some reason, whether it be that fact or the creature's overall vibe, I felt that he was older than them. A grown man to mere boys...

"What do you want?" I forced out, trying to rattle the bar with my fist.

He gave no answer, merely tilted his head to the other side with another series of clicks.

_He doesn't understand me..._I realized, wondering why it had taken me so long to figure it out. _Of course he doesn't._

I'd have to use hand signals then...and hope for the best.

Placing my healthy palm against my chest, I emphasized it with a jerk, then pointed to the cage around me. The predator waited, clicking softly.

For my final move, I attempted to shrug my shoulders-but the pain burst through in my broken arm and I cried out, the sound melding into a sob soon thereafter.

The creature moved quickly, stalking back into the dark to my left. I heard a string of odd mechanical noises, and then that hum was back, the lights pulsing again.

For some reason, it served to calm me down, slowing my heart rate and easing the pain, if only slightly.

The enormous predator moved back into sight, holding something clear in his strong hands. As he approached the cage, I suddenly remembered my fear, and scurried to the opposite side of the table despite the pain.

Clicking loudly, he tried to follow me around, but I kept dodging him, scooting from side to side. WIth a grunt of dissatisfaction, he adjusted the syringe in his hand and moved his head close to the bars, making a new sound I'd never heard before.

It was soft...gentle, almost. Sort of like...

_Purring._

Almost instantly, all the tension in my muscles washed away, leaving me a limp, lazy mess inside the cage. I sighed and then groaned with relief as the creature watched me curiously.

Whatever. He could do what he wanted, so long as the pain was at bay.

Finally reaching me, he stretched his hand through the gap in the bars and, again, _gently _swept the hair to one side of my neck. Exposed, he swiftly injected me with whatever it was he had inside the syringe...

And then I drifted away, lost to oblivion once more.

**Chapter 4: I am Debriefed**

**I'll try to get the chapter following this one up sometime later today, but I can't make any promises :) Hope you guys are enjoying it. Listen to:**

**Echoplex - Nine Inch Nails**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Four**_

_**I am Debriefed**_

When next I woke, there was a great deal more light than before. Instead of the deep blue I remembered, it was a bright, icy color-like a calmer sort of fluorescence.

I could see the room in its entirety. A small, plain looking room, something like a medical bay. I was still laying on the surgical table, but the cage had been removed, leaving only the belts around my wrists and ankles to restrain me.

Glancing down at my broken arm, I found it severely bruised...but no longer aching. No, it was more like the dull throb of an overworked muscle. As for my back, I couldn't tell.

My cheek hadn't hurt in the first place, though I was sure I'd felt it shatter. Perhaps it was a quick fix compared to the rest...

But _who_ was fixing me? And _why?_

I had to know, or I was sure I'd gone insane.

"H-Hello?" I called, my voice a ravaged croak, as if I'd spent the morning gargling nails. It echoed around the metal walls eerily, making me shiver, and I waited with bated breath for someone to hear me.

I heard the swish of air again, and this time saw the wall to my right slide open, revealing only a glimpse of a hallway behind a large figure before it closed again.

The predator was back.

Well, not _the_ predator...but _a_ predator. This one looked different. Its chest wasn't bare, but covered in fishnets, and it was shorter than the one that saved me. The one who'd been in here earlier...

This one also had a strange, greenish-yellow skin tone, and its mask was a lighter color of metal.

The words were spilling out of my mouth before I even considered the language difference. "My-my name is...Calvin. I-I'm a human. I don't want any trouble...with your kind."

The creature clicked once, and then startled me by forming a sentence that was absolutely English.

"Yes, I know you what you are, _ooman_."

The words may've been distorted by his strange voice, but I understood them perfectly.

"You...you..." I stuttered.

"I can speak your language...to a degree," he continued over me.

"Who are you?" I finally managed, expecting a real answer this time.

"I am surprised you do not ask _what. _Is it my name you seek, little ooman?"

I opened my mouth, not sure of what to say, then whispered, "Yes...yes, _anything_." I had to have some understanding of this place. I was so used to knowing everything about my surroundings that I felt completely derailed at the moment.

"My _name_ is Fer'kye, I am _known_ as Wither Mender-or, rather, I believe that is the closest translation in your tongue."

I blinked at him. "And you...you _mended_...me?"

"Yes." He clicked to confirm it.

"Why?" I breathed. "Why am I here at all? I could've been left to die..."

He hesitated, cocking his head to the side in what I was beginning to think was a common movement for their race. "It is not my place to say. Ry'kiver must tell you."

"Who is-"

"Ry'kiver is Dark Hound...leader of our-ah, what is the ooman word-_brotherhood."_

Following a brief pause, I nodded dumbly. "He must be the big one..." and I didn't realize until after it'd been said that I'd said it _aloud._

Fer'kye's head tilted the other way, and he asked me curiously (but also with a touch of disdain), "Are we not all larger than _you?"_

Swallowing thickly, I nodded again. Yes...they were all quite enor-

_Wait._ Why did he say all? Was he referring to the ones his leader had massacred in Panama...or-

"Are there more of you?" I forced out. "Here, I mean. With your leader and you."

Fer'kye clicked disapprovingly, though I wasn't sure whether it was directed at me. "Lau'jin does not wish to see you. It is unlikely you will come across him while you are onboard."

"_Onboard?"_ I gasped.

A sound like a grunt, or maybe even a snort, came from his mask. "Did you think us foolish enough to keep some sort of _bunker_ on ooman grounds?"

And I was suddenly overwhelmed by the frightening prospect of being on this creature's bad side. "N-No! No, of course not! I just...I just-"

"You are aboard the_ Monog'amer 14..._one of the finest designs in aircraft that our planet has ever known."

Despite everything, a small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Sounds like monogamy."

He clicked in confusion. "What is..._monogamy._.." and his testing of the foreign word was almost comical-were he not such a large, threatening being.

"Having only one partn-no. Nevermind." And I shook my head at myself with a quiet laugh. I needed to get back to the topic at hand. So I was on an aircraft.

A spaceship.

Jesus H. Christ.

Well, that explained the hovering feeling I'd been having.

"We have temporarily vacated your homeworld for...complicated reasons. In due time, you will be returned. The exact _manner_ of your return is as of yet undecided," Fer'kye explained.

A burst of relief exploded in my chest. _Home!_ I would get to go home!? When only moments ago I'd thought a quick, painless death was wishful thinking!?

It made a broad smile stretch across my face, and I whispered a quick, "Thank you."

The creature seemed taken aback by the words, clicking at me. Then he sniffed and moved to the side of the room. "It would be best for your injuries if we could allow you to sit up. What I am about to place around your wrist is a tracking device." He showed my the thick silver ring, sort of like a shackle.

"So you can...follow me around?" I asked confusedly.

He shook his head. "Though it does indeed track your whereabouts, it is meant for a more detailed practice." For a split second, I felt the creature's smooth skin against my wrist as he snapped the device into place. It shocked me.

I'd expected them to feel...rougher.

"This device is meant to track the wavelengths in your limbic system-" he paused at the lost look in my eyes. "The decision-making part of your brain."

I nodded.

"If it senses malicious intent, it will set off an alarm."

Oh.

So they were trying to protect themselves...from me? Pardon my French, but the whole idea of it seemed pretty fucking ridiculous.

Then I remembered...I'd killed one of them. I'd shoved a knife right through that motherfucker's neck...

And I'd do it again, if I had to.

The creature studied me as I considered myself, as if sensing the dissonant chords my head was stringing together.

"I just...I don't understand," I said. "I thought your kind hated humans."

He clicked loudly, then rumbled, "I think it's high time you met with Ry'kiver."

**Chapter 5: I am Distracted**

**Hell yeah, late night updates! :D Hope some of you guys are still up :) I had some questions about the pronunciation of my characters' names, so...I'll go ahead and clear that up now.**

**Ry'kiver: (Rrr-I(as in **_**I,**_** you, me, we...)-kiv-er)**

**Fer'kye: (Fur-kye)**

**Lau'jin: (L-ou (as in ouch!)-jin)**

**More to come :) Listen to:**

**The Gardener - Marilyn Manson (This one is REALLY interesting)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Five**_

_**I am Distracted**_

I stared down at my feet, swinging wearily off the edge of the surgical table, and eyed the tracker on my wrist. The thick piece of metal didn't seem like it would be capable of anything other than existing.

But I felt the barely distinguishable hum of electricity against my skin, both proving me wrong and warning me of its power.

Fer'kye stood by the door, watching me until I made eye contact.

"Ry'kiver does not speak your language..." he told me, "nor does he understand it. I will act as your translator."

I nodded, and just as the predator turned to leave I managed, "I am..._grateful._ For all that you've done for me..."

With a few slow clicks, he glanced over his broad shoulder at me. "I do not understand that word."

And then he left. The sadness his words brought to me, though...that lingered in the room, swirling around my head; a mixture of sympathy and pity. But how? How could it be possible for me to pity a creature so powerful? So dangerous?

It didn't make sense, and I shook it away, forcing my chin up in preparation for what was to come. I was to meet my savior. _Properly._

This should be interesting.

Not ten seconds later, the door swished aside, granting the two magnificently large beings entrance. Fer'kye was in front-I could easily tell, if not from the height difference alone, then from the difference in their armor.

Ry'kiver had a great deal less...and was at least six inches taller.

I suddenly became very nervous, my heart rate jumping to an insane level and my fingers shaking. I had no idea why, either. But my savior seemed to sense it, cocking his head to the side in a movement the was curious while at the same time flaunting superiority.

His dreadlocks swung like dancers, the silver rings laced within them catching the lights and glinting.

I gathered a long, shuddering breath.

It was at this very moment that I first heard the Yautja language. Ry'kiver turned to his comrade, speaking deeply and with perfect ease, although the sound was muffled by his mask.

It was clicks...clicks and growls and gasps, intertwined with groaning and anger and such substance-substance I was certain no human language could ever achieve. It was a sound that made my heart skip a beat. Breathtaking...sensual...

Like nothing I'd ever heard.

Fer'kye said something in response, but the sound of his voice was much different. Lighter...more gentle, like the peaceful being that he seemed to be.

But I already knew which one I preferred...as insane as that was. I shouldn't have had a _preference_ at all!

Fer'kye turned to me. "He wishes to know whether you are healthy."

Hearing my language again sort of shocked me, and with a slight start, I replied, "Um...I don't know...am I?"

Fer'kye shook his head, "He means in the mind."

"Oh..." I made the mistake of glancing back at Ry'kiver, and my heart tripped all over again. _What was happening? _It had to have something to do with his appearance! Something that knocked me off balance every time I looked his way.

Maybe it was the mask-so dark and mysterious, exuding power-_dominance. _Yes, maybe it was that...

Or maybe it was his bare chest, for only now, in this light, could I see its true color. It was silver...like titanium. Silver and striped with three thick lines of black, moving down his middle. As if something gigantic had scratched him before he was born. A birthmark, I supposed-but what did I know of the Yautja anatomy?

Nothing, that's what.

With each breath he drew, his chest heaved upward, making me shake more vigorously somehow. And, _oh_...but the sounds that he made...

His clicks were not just clicks. They were rumbles...earthquakes in my ears. And yet, at the same time, I could probably fall asleep listening to them-like a perfect lullaby. The sound made me feel safe...feel comfortable...feel...

_Distracted!_

The two predators exchanged a glance at my long pause, and Fer'kye prompted, "Ooman?"

"Yes. Sorry!" I shook my head again. "I'm fine. I feel fine."

He reported it back to Ry'kiver, who seemed to nod in approval.

"If I may..." I whispered, feeling suddenly bold. Fer'kye hesitated, glancing at his leader, than urged me to continue.

"I just...I just have some questions," I said.

He translated to Ry'kiver, who quickly gave his consent.

"_Why._..why did you save me?"

Fer'kye asked him for me, and my savior seemed to be prepared for the question, immediately launching into a lengthy explanation.

I wasn't complaining...I just liked the sound of his voi-

What. The. _Fuck._

_Stop it this instant, Calvin! _My conscience roared.

Fer'kye was oblivious to my inner turmoil, that was certain...but I couldn't help but sense a..._knowing _from Ry'kiver, even as he spoke. Like he could sense my every thought.

The idea made a heavy blush creep across my skin.

The answer was complete, and the sudden cease of that blissful voice made me want to groan. I couldn't believe myself!

Luckily Fer'kye began to speak, dragging my attention away. "He says that the group of Yautja who discovered you were Unblooded."

"Unblooded?" I interrupted.

"All in good time, ooman. He says that what they did goes against all sense of Yautja honor...and honor is very important to us. He says that they are forbidden to attack a female."

I couldn't help myself. I interrupted again. _"Why?"_

"Another question that will take too long to answer," Fer'kye reproached. "He only wants you to know that he defended you out of Yautja honor, nothing more."

It felt like being punched in the gut. I couldn't help it-the disappointment.

Something in the room beeped, breaking the tense silence. Fer'kye went to tend to it immediately, saying over his shoulder, "You must rest, ooman. The medicine is working its way into your hippocampus. You will not be conscious for long."

I nodded. That was fine. I felt degraded enough...even though I knew I should've felt nothing but relief. Relief that I was going to survive...going to return to Earth.

But no.

I was _confused._

As Fer'kye made to guide my savior out of the room, Ry'kiver said something more, causing me to tilt my head up in curiosity.

Fer'kye looked uncertain, turning to me and murmuring, "He wishes me to repeat what he has said word for word."

I held my breath.

"I may not understand your language, _ooman_...but I understand you."

**Chapter 6: I am Horrified**

**Sorry this took a little bit guys, but I love all your support! And so quickly, too! :) By the way, I'm going to have a fan-art contest for one of my stories coming up soon and I have a poll on my profile as to which story that will be. Vote now if you want it to be this one! :) I simply adore you guys. Thanks for being so awesome and reviewing! Listen to:**

**Getaway - Peeping Tom (This one makes a lot of sense :) )**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Six**_

_**I am Horrified**_

_Yautja ~_

He moved through the halls with a sort of feline grace, feet never hitting the ground too hard and eyes always watching for a potential threat, even in the safest of environments. Fer'kye had studied him curiously as they'd left the medical bay, inquiring almost immediately as to what his leader had meant.

Ry'kiver spoke over his armored shoulder, one of the few protective devices he wore, "The ooman is in shock of me. I have unsettled her."

Fer'kye moved a little faster to keep up with the Dark Hound's rapid pace. "What do you mean?"

They marched into the main control room, and Ry'kiver was quick to settle himself in the pilot's chair with ease. "My presence makes the female nervous."

Fer'kye hesitated a moment before slowly sitting down next to him. "Strange. She does not seem to fear me."

"That is my point, exactly." Ry'kiver kicked up his feet, carelessly slinging them onto the control pad. "She is comfortable with you and frightened of me. I think this understanding will work in both our favors. It will be easier to..._control_ her, if she feels threatened by me."

Fer'kye stared at his leader for a moment, then bent to remove his mask, the oxygen tubes hissing as the steam rose in the air. Stretching his sore mandibles, he cracked his neck to the sides. "Always hungry for control, I see. I suppose it doesn't matter."

Ry'kiver shrugged. "The sooner we can dispose of her, the better. She is a liability-weakening us as a whole."

"I agree."

_Calvin ~_

What could he've possibly meant by that? He_ understood me?_

If I had any say in it, I'd say I knew absolutely nothing about him, and he knew absolutely _nothing_ about me.

We were an entirely different species, for god's sake!

And I knew I had to start taking that into account when I looked at him. I am ashamed to admit that it was more like gawking.

He was just so...so _big_. And strong...and tall...and-

Well, as I said before...masculine.

I forced myself to accept it as my basic female instincts kicking into gear, confused into thinking that he was some sort of human alpha male, and not the alien that he was.

Because that's what all female mammals were designed to seek out, right? The alpha male...the one who could best protect them and their young-provide for them as a whole?

If not, I was royally screwed...

Because my feminine aura wanted him.

Itching the metal bind on my wrist, I glanced around at the empty medical bay, stocked with shiny, impressive gadgets and vials filled with what I hoped was medicine.

Then I glanced at my wrist again.

Could I trust these creatures?

Could I really hold them to their word, when I knew absolutely nothing about the situation that I was in?

For all I knew, I could've been a slave right now, or some kind of sacrificial lamb being prepared for slaughter...

The thought made me shiver, and I struggled to remember my survival instincts-all those years of training...learning how to be the perfect guide. I'd been schooled in how to survive situations of the extreme.

But I don't suppose anybody had planned for something like this.

I was on my own.

Swallowing down my nervousness and any remnants of panic in my mind, I hopped off the table, instantly collapsing from the strange feel of my legs.

The bandages around my body, which preserved at least _some_ of my dignity, fit snug. Tight-like underwear. It would feel awkward walking around in them...almost like being naked.

But I had to get out of this room. It was constricting me, as if it were getting smaller with every passing minute.

And I was claustrophobic.

I approached the door in the wall slowly, afraid, I guess, that it might trigger something if I got too close. But no such trap existed. Instead, the door swished open in its strange, mechanical way, and I was granted access to the rest of the ship.

As I tread quietly down the shiny hallway, I had to keep reminding myself of two things. One: There was a tracker on my wrist...so I couldn't run away. And two: I shouldn't try running anyway. They said they'd take me home, and if they didn't, well...there wasn't much I could do about that in outer space.

And so I decided I should pick another mission. A more..._sensible_ one.

And with one glance down at my overexposed body, I had it.

God damn, I had to find some normal clothes. Something that actually counted. Hell, I'd settle for a robe or a towel at this point.

Moving a little faster in the off-chance that one of the creatures might spot me, I barred an arm over my cleavage and turned some random corners.

Were there any doors here? _Jesus..._

I guess I'd never know. All I seemed to encounter throughout my time on that ship was walls.

And I was about to hit a really big one.

With my eyes focused over my shoulder, staring carelessly behind me, I rammed right into a massive barricade of flesh.

And when I whipped around, expecting Fer'kye or-god help me-Ry'kiver, I found that I was face to face with neither.

This must've been Lau'jin.

The first predator I'd seen...without the mask.

Horror exploded inside my chest as I stared open-mouthed at his sharp, spider-like mandibles, flexing angrily in contemplation of me.

And I just...froze up.

This was an alien...a monster. My brain was only just recalling what Fer'kye had said.

"_Lau'jin does not wish to see you..."_

As if to reiterate these words, Lau'jin spread his mandibles wide, revealing razor-sharp fangs, and _roared._

It was a sound like nothing I'd ever heard before-but I can only describe it as a sound like a thousand people dying...

A choking scream of confusion and terror ripped out of me and I threw my hands to my ears, backing into the far wall of the hallway. He pressed forward, following me and yet still managing not to touch me.

And the roar just wouldn't end.

He didn't even stop to breathe.

Eventually, I was reduced to my knees, whimpering as I formed imprints of my hands into my temples, trying fruitlessly to block it out. My ears were ringing and my eyes burned with tears.

It was like torture.

But only when another roar layered on top of this one, resonating from somewhere in the distance, am I ashamed to say that I passed out.

**Vote now on my profile page if you want a fan-art contest for I, Predator! :)**

**Chapter 7: I am in Shock**

**Congratulations on winning the fan-art poll guys! The rules will be listed at the end of the chapter :) Listen to:**

**Vaulted Ceilings - Memphis May Fire (SOOOO PERFECT!)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**I am in Shock**_

_Calvin ~_

It was the same room as before. The medical bay. How many times would I wake up in here? How many times would I _pass out?_

No sooner had I seen the room's ceiling did I realize that I was not alone.

I could hear him breathing...

But _which_ him? That was the important question.

And I could only pray it was Fer'kye as I gathered a deep breath and slowly sat up. My head spun, that horrible feeling of cold sweat sweeping over me all at once, and I struggled to make the world straighten out again.

Clutching the table desperately, I swallowed a few times, forcing down the bile, then opened my eyes again and glanced to my left.

Ry'kiver cocked his head to the side, dreadlocks swinging, and clicked cautiously. His mask was still on, thank god, but he'd removed any trace of armor...

Which allowed me to see every inch of his intensely toned, massive body.

His broad, coal-colored chest gleamed in the room's light, far more masculine than any human male's I'd ever seen. Smooth, endless pectorals...

I swallowed again, but not from sickness this time.

Beneath his chest, a flawless expanse of vertical muscle shone, glistening with a sheen of sweat. He wore only a dark, intricately braided loincloth...nothing else. His arms were crossed, temptingly flashing me the many lines of impressive sinew.

_God help me..._

Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I slowly pivoted my body to face him, wondering idly if there was anything that could possibly be_ bigger_ than he was. He was like a tower-a massive barricade...and I...I was a dandelion in the grass below.

Sort of puts things into perspective, doesn't it? When you realize that you're only an insect in your little comfortable world, but you don't realize it until everything comes crashing down around you?

My world had been knocked off of its hinges...and I didn't know what would happen when I went back. How drastically had things changed for me?

I wondered...

Would I yearn for more, after this was over?

The answer is yes.

I knew I would.

"You're so big..." I whispered, knowing that he couldn't understand me, which is perhaps what gave me the courage to say it. He clicked at me, cocking his head to the other side.

So I used my hands.

Tapping my chest, I held out my arm and pinched my thumb and forefinger together. Then I pointed to him and spread my arms wide.

Something rumbled from his mask. Something like.._.laughter._

Laughter from a predator like this...

It just seemed so...I don't know-surreal.

I blushed furiously, staring down at my thighs. If it was possible, he'd managed to make me feel smaller in that moment. And I didn't want to be any more microscopic than I already was.

He took a sudden, resounding step closer to me, and the awareness of his proximity shot through my veins like adrenaline, making me lean far backward and stare at him wide-eyed.

Seemingly unaffected by my reaction, he reached out an enormous, clawed hand...and formed a human gesture I could in no way expect.

After pointing to me, he made a fist and rose his thumb. A thumbs-up.

Without even trying, a small smile lit up my face. Because it was familiar. Because it made the mental darkness I was trapped in seem...less dark.

I nodded, mimicking the signal and he made a gruff noise. A grunt.

That was when the silence set in.

And the comfort of a moment ago evaporated, replaced by a sort of confused energy imbalance between us. Almost like something chemical, though I couldn't be sure.

It was just _too_ quiet.

The language barrier made it worse. There was nothing I could say to ease the tension. Nothing that would make sense to him anyway...and I was fresh out of hand signals.

Then something off in the corner made a sound-a beep-and I jumped, startled, my hand jerking upward and brushing across the skin of his bicep.

I gasped.

He growled.

And with a dark look at one another, we knew something had changed. Even through his mask, I could see he'd thought it too.

My shaking hand tingled where the contact had been, and instantly my brain began to memorize the feel of him, frantically, as if it were afraid I would forget it.

Skin on skin. Roughness on smoothness. Muscle on soft flesh.

My lips parted with another quivering breath.

Ry'kiver was very still, all purring and growling and clicking ceased, trying to process what had just happened.

It was almost like touching someone and receiving an electrical shock, only much, _much _stronger. He looked...dare I say..._confused._

And then he was reaching out...reaching for me, the warmth radiating off of his body so close I could feel it against my face...and-and he was going to touch me. He was going to touch me _willingly_. On _purpose. _Without fathom of consequence.

And god dammit, I _wanted_ him to. I held my breath, looking him straight in the eyes. The tip of one claw just barely grazed the sensitive flesh of my cheek-

But the fucking door swished open, and the moment was gone as he swiftly dropped his arm, taking a giant step backward.

Fer'kye stood on the threshold, also masked, but tilting his head in a puzzled fashion. He made a few clicks, then murmured something to Ry'kiver in their language.

Ry'kiver responded, initiating that strange static in my brain at the sound of his voice, and I forcefully tried to get a hold of myself, so, so, _so_ afraid that I would lose it and just touch him anyway, even with Fer'kye standing not ten feet from us.

He was an alien.

I shouldn't have wanted to touch him at all.

And I knew that.

God help me, but I knew that...and I just didn't fucking_ care. _Not enough, anyway.

Ry'kiver finished speaking, calling me back to my senses, and Fer'kye turned to face me, stepping fully into the room.

"He says Lau'jin has frightened you, ooman. Are you in shock?"

I blinked, somehow unaccustomed to hearing English again. "I-no-yes-_god,_ I don't know." And I dropped my head into my hands.

I _was_ in shock.

Yes, I was.

But Lau'jin had nothing to do with it.

**CONGRATULATIONS ON WINNING THE POLL FOR A FAN-ART CONTEST. HERE ARE THE REQUIREMENTS:**

**All fan-art MUST be original works, made by you.**

**You can make collages with existing photos, so long as they are put together in an original way.**

**Drawings, sketches and paintings receive more points in my book ;)**

**The fan-art must include either Calvin or Ry'kiver in the picture, or both.**

**A quote from the story must be present.**

**Please submit the links to me via PM, and PLEEEEEEAAASSEEE put spaces between each number/letter/symbol.**

**Good luck. Due date will be announced shortly, and the prizes are as follows:**

**1st place-You get to design your own love scene between the hero and heroin which I will write for you.**

**2nd place-You get to design a new character for the story.**

**3rd place-The next five songs for the chapters are under your control.**

**MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU, YOUNG PADAWANS. :D**

**ALSO, VOTE ON MY PROFILE IF YOU WANT A SAY IN WHAT MY NEXT STORY WILL BE. :) The poll is at the top of the page :)**

**Chapter 8: I am Exhausted**

**I hope you guys are enjoying this. Turns out predator stories are my new guilty pleasure. I just can't stop myself! XD Listen to:**

**Snuff - Slipknot**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**I am Exhausted**_

I stared at the full plate with wide eyes. Was I supposed to..._eat that? _No! Surely not. It was the bloodiest meat I'd ever laid eyes on-so raw, it was practically still alive. And I was certain I'd get sick off of it.

Glancing up, I watched Fer'kye scarf his meal down without reservation; a meal identical to mine. His unmasking had been much less frightening than Lau'jin's. He'd calmly removed his helmet, nodded at me and then begun to eat. Simple as that.

In fact, the more I looked at him, the easier it was to accept the large, crude mandibles and tusks. Just another species...

He was the only one eating with me. Lau'jin was nowhere to be found, thank god...but the Dark Hound...

He'd disappeared so swiftly after our-_encounter, _and I desperately wanted to know where he'd gone. What he was thinking...

Hell, I didn't even know what _I_ was thinking at this point.

"You should eat," Fer'kye said abruptly, knocking me from my thoughts. "Your wounds need it."

I gave him an apologetic look. "I don't really think I..._can_."

He rose a prickly, black brow, eyeing the meat for a moment. Then his mandibles flexed and he stood, leaving the room without so much as another word.

Had I offended him? Oh god,_ no_...because that would jeopardize going home. I couldn't afford to fuck anything up. No. Not _now._ Not when everything was falling back into place and I was getting the let-off-the-hook of a lifetime.

But just when I contemplated going after him to apologize, he reappeared...and my tense muscles relaxed when he set down a plate of normal-looking fruit in front of me. I breathed a sigh of relief, whispering, "Thank you," before devouring everything in sight.

He gave me a nod of approval, then returned to his seat and dragged my plate toward him, adding the meat to his own.

With the growling of my stomach temporarily subdued, I leaned over the shiny, metal table and rested my head on my arms. It took me several minutes, though, to work up the courage to ask.

"Is...will-will Ry'kiver be joining us?"

That earned me another curious brow raise. "Most likely not. He is a...solitary male. He prefers to be alone."

I nodded, trying to hide the sinking sensation in my gut-but it must've been obvious.

"You are disappointed," he stated, sounding almost _amused_ by the idea.

A furious blush colored my face, and I quickly ducked my head. "No-no..." I stuttered. "Just...trying to understand. This is all so foreign to me."

But he wasn't buying it for a second.

"The Dark Hound is _confused_ by your interest, little ooman. Perhaps one should not leave him so completely in the dark..." and with a final, mysterious quirk of his brow, he downed the glass of strange, orange fluid sitting before him and got to his feet. "I have had sleeping arrangements made for you in the medical bay, if you don't mind. It is the safest place for you at the moment. Earth is but a few days away."

Then he was gone, leaving me with a mess of conflicting emotions and buzzing thoughts, like a whirlwind inside my head.

Was he telling me to..._explain myself?_ To Ry'kiver? That massive beast of a male didn't even speak my language! How the hell was _anything_ supposed to make sense between the two of us?

_There wasn't even supposed to be an us!_

We were aliens to one another! Strangers! All that remained was the small lapse of time I'd spend aboard this damned vessel before being returned home.

It was almost, quite literally nothing.

I shouldn't have had a problem at all.

But I did. And it was him.

It was simply impossible to ignore the strange connection I'd felt between us. And maybe it _was_ nothing. Maybe I was just going fucking crazy.

Or maybe it wasn't...

Officially exhausted with my thoughts for the night, I rose on weary legs and shuffled out of the small, dark, dining room. The ship hummed comfortingly beneath my sore feet, and I was practically sleepwalking by the time I reached the medical bay.

Having food in your belly after an extended period of time with nothing really wipes you out-like your body's trying to catch up with it, or something.

The room was so dark when I entered, dulling my mind further, if that was even possible.

Dragging myself toward where I thought I remembered the table to be, I felt around in earnest for it, my hands finding no purchase whatsoever.

But then I remembered what Fer'kye had said.

He'd changed the room for me.

Moving around a little more, I waved my arms about until my fingers ghosted over an incredibly, unexpectedly soft surface. Super fine furs glided beneath my skin, welcoming me...calling to me like a lover...

And I didn't hesitate to strip off the flimsy bandages that were my clothing and slide into the bed.

Christ, Fer'kye must've gone all out. The bed was so magnificent...like a heavenly cloud. It didn't even smell like medicine anymore in the room. Rather, it breathed a scent of warmth and musk, tingling across my nerve endings and having the peculiar effect of reminding me...

Reminding me of just how much unapologetic, unrestrained.._.male_ I'd been exposed to in the past few days.

All the testosterone was really starting to get to me...

But I couldn't think on it.

Because the feeling of the furs, sliding and rubbing against my naked skin was so incredible...and so...so_ erotic_, that I couldn't even see reason anymore.

Wrapping myself in the cocoon of warmth the pelts offered, I didn't hesitate to fall right into a deep, much-needed slumber.

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :) AND REMEMBER! FAN-ART! FAN-ART! FAN-ART! THE CONTEST IS UNDERWAY! :D**

**Chapter 9: I am Begging**

**And...moving right along :) I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying this! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! They keep me going. WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT. Listen to:**

**Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades - Brand New (SO PERFECT AND SOOO SEXY)**

**Enjoy :)**

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**I am Begging**_

_~ This chapter is dedicated to Nerd91. Thank you so much for your wonderful support! :) ~_

_Yautja ~_

He made a point of it.

Of training so hard that evening that his muscles burned like hot coals beneath his skin, the wiry sinew bulging out from just under the surface. His fists were frozen in a clench, and every time he stretched an arm or a leg, his body vigorously fought against him.

It was the only way to take his mind off of..._other things._

"Other things" being specifically defined as small, fragile and female.

He just-just couldn't stop _wondering _about it. Wondering what would've happened, had he been given enough time to reach that extra inch and touch her, simply for the sake of touching her.

Keep in mind that this wonderment was accompanied by a great deal of mental chastising for even _considering_ it, let alone _attempting_ it. The prospect went against every law of Yautja honor.

And even being a rogue, he had vowed to follow that code until the end of his days.

It was everything.

Honor. Glory. Respect. Discipline. Faith. Fearlessness. Stamina.

_Everything._

And he'd be damned if he broke a single one of those laws over an inferior, human female, regardless of the strange static he felt invade his mind when he was around her.

She meant nothing-_was_ nothing. And he would have no further qualms about it.

Heading for the doorway of the ship's extensive training facility, he turned around on the threshold and barked the word to kill the lights, then moved out of the way for the door to seal itself.

The intense aroma of sweat dissipated, but did not disappear, as he marched through the halls, allowing the vessel's standard temperature to cool him off as he sped by. At the current time, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his cot and sleep the year away, however un-Yautja that might be.

He was _bone_ tired. Dog tired. Feeling as if he'd spent the last week on his feet without a single respite. He hand't eaten a proper meal in a long while either, but that could wait.

Rest. Rest was all he needed.

_That, and a full drum of C'ntlip..._he added subconsciously.

Yes...getting drunk sounded like a remarkably good idea.

Still-it wasn't nearly as good as sleep.

When finally he reached the entrance to his quarters, he started to viciously punch in the codes with one hand, whilst simultaneously tearing off his mask with the other. The oxygen tubes hissed, and he stretched his sore mandibles gratefully at the freedom.

He'd been very careful not to remove the mask while in the human's presence...and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Maybe it was because he looked so different from his blood-brothers...or maybe it was because he simply didn't want to frighten her.

Either way, it didn't matter anymore. He'd written her off in his mind...and he couldn't give a flying _pauk _what she thought of him.

The door whisked open then, and he was instantly assailed with a rather arresting aroma. A _human_ aroma.

Before he could stop himself, a growl wrenched its way out of his throat.

So she'd been in his quarters?

Oh, he'd have a thing or two to say to her tomorrow. It was just a shame she wouldn't understand the filthy words he planned to use.

Barreling angrily into the room, he began to rid himself of all his armor, grumbling under his breath the whole way but admittedly too tired to deal with the matter right then.

Maybe she'd been evaluating his trophies. Maybe they'd sparked her interest.

Had she liked them?

_NO. _His conscience stated firmly. _What do you care?_

Hanging his armor carefully on the stone mannequin by the far wall, he accepted the total darkness eagerly, doing his best to ignore the human's long-lingering scent.

Moving to the large bed, he removed his loincloth and netting suit, tossing them to the floor without thought, and slid beneath the soft pelts. They were surprisingly already warm, and a contented groan leaked out of him as his sore body was enveloped in the cleansing heat.

But the contentment didn't last.

Not for more than a minute and a half.

When he felt himself just begin to drift off, something stirred, and before he even had the chance to react-to reach for a weapon-a small, soft, _warm_ body had wound its arms around his neck and drawn his body close, its long, thin legs straddling his pelvis before crossing at the small of his back.

Eyes wide with shock, and apparently unable to move, he took a good, long whiff of the creature-and smelled human.

Smelled _her._

A growl of anger at his _c'jit _luck was trapped in his chest, but when the little female felt the vibration, a pleasured hum slipped out of her and she nestled her face into his chest.

_Paya_, she was _naked._

Naked and sleeping, apparently, but that didn't help the situation in the slightest.

His mind raced, trying to think of all the ways he could handle this appropriately without hurting the human or worsening the already bad circumstances. There was only a handful of options, and he was just planning to jostle her awake when...

He smelled something else.

A crude, enticing and beautiful smell. He knew them all to be different, but it was still obvious what it was.

The little female's arousal-a wondrous scent of coconut and firewood-wafted up through the air.

Instantly, Ry'kiver jerked, struggling to fight off the male instinct that accompanied such an aroma. But the human didn't wake, instead giving another pleased sigh and...

_Oh, Paya..._

She'd rocked her hips against his.

She'd really done it, hadn't she?

Forcing his eyes not to roll back into his head, the Dark Hound clenched his fists, mandibles splaying desperately as he tried to do the impossible.

Tried to stop the pleasure signals from leaving his brain.

And_ Paya_ knows how well that went.

Not seconds later, resist though he might, a painfully intense rush of blood fled to his cock, and his member tripled in size, hardening like steel before pushing up to press against the female's dripping sex.

_No. No. No. No. No..._

She gave a little mewl, sliding his pulsing shaft between her lower lips gently, but just enough to craze him.

_Oh, Paya-help me!_

How was she still asleep? Was that even possible?

Her scent wafted through the air, so strong it overpowered the oxygen in the room, and he was forced to breathe it in with every shuddering pant.

His cock jerked again, growing somehow harder.

Harder than he'd ever been in his life.

_Paya, __please__..._

But it was only when a bitterly resisted spurt of pre-cum wept from his slit and spilled over her clitoris that her eyes finally snapped open.

Just when he was beginning to think he didn't want her to wake...

With a gasp, however, she brought him back to his senses as her hands pawed desperately at him, trying to feel him out.

And he remembered that she couldn't see.

How..._frightening _this must've been for her.

That's not to say that he'd been spared. This was everything that was wrong with anything, all packed into one.

Which, of course, meant that something else had to go wrong.

Of _course_ the human's delicate, little hands roamed that one extra inch too far...and tangled in his long, glossy dreadlocks.

A hiss of pure, lustful agony was ripped from his throat as every sensation-every sensor in his body-went wild.

_No. Stop-__please__._

But the female seemed to finally realize what she was touching...and with a gasping sort of scream, she struggled to disentangle herself, giving him ample opportunity to jerk out of the bed and away into the darkness.

He yanked his mask off the mannequin and quickly attached it, activating the night vision with pathetically shaking hands.

When the world bleached into that strange, digital green color, he turned back to face the bed, remaining silent but for a few clicks as he stared at the human.

She sat panting on the bed, a white, wintery pelt drawn up over her glands as her eyes darted around in angst, trying to locate him.

And he couldn't help but notice the way her dark brown tresses tumbled over her shoulders, which were so weak and so small compared to the Yautja women he'd known, but somehow more...elegant.

She was-_-strangely_-as he imagined the goddess Paya to look, only without the mandibles or talons or tusks.

But beautiful like her...and he hated himself for thinking it.

His cock was still shamelessly hard, but as he took a gentle whiff of the air, he found her arousal much depleted, replaced by the all too familiar smell of fear.

Then she whispered something in her strange, simple tongue.

"_I'm...I'm so sorry..."_

And he didn't know what to make of it...

Of anything...

_Yautja (Predator) Translations:_

_"ooman" - human (derogatory)_

_"c'jit" - shit_

_"pauk" - fuck_

_"Paya" - female god, worshipped by the Yautja_

_"C'ntlip: - a strongly alcoholic Yautja drink_

**VOTE FOR MY NEXT STORY AT THE TOP OF MY PROFILE PAGE :) AND REMEMBER THE FAN-ART CONTEST! :D GOOD LUCK!**


End file.
